The Sons of Baroth: An Elder Scrolls Novel
by SuperGreG
Summary: 4E49-Fifty years after the Oblivion Crisis & more than six years since the events of the Infernal City. Karl gro-Baroth had been raised by a Nord, but his blood was as Orcish his brothers. With the Guild Master gone, the Fighters Guild needed proper leadership. The first question was obvious. What was he going to do about it? Oblivion, Infernal City/Lord of Souls & Skyrim.
1. Chapter 1

Foreword:

Fifty years after the Oblivion Crisis and more than six years since the events of the Infernal City, the story continues. Karl gro-Baroth had been raised by a Nord, but his blood was as Orcish as his bothers. With the Guild Master gone, the Fighters Guild needed leadership. The first question was obvious. What was he going to do about it?

Authors note: With some artistic license, all reasonable effort made to maintain _general_ parity with _existing_ canon established in Oblivion, The Infernal City/Lord of Souls, and Skyrim.

Rated M for mild adult content.

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><p>Although it should go without needing to be stated, let it be said: Bethesda owns The Elder Scrolls and all related materials. I am merely contributing my own interpretations in a public forum and no profit is derived or intended from my work.<p>

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Additional note: The story follows on from "The Hammer and the Anvil: An Elder Scrolls Novel". Some effort has been made to allow this story to function as stand-alone. However, I still recommend reading the previous story for a more complete perspective.

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><p>The Sons of Baroth: An Elder Scrolls Novel<p>

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 1

Morndas the 31st of Second Seed 4E49

The bells of the Chapel of Stendarr had just marked the hour of eight. As usual by that time, Karl gro-Baroth had already been sitting at his desk for quite a while. The open space of his office was situated on the uppermost level of the Fighters Guild of Chorrol, overlooking the common area of the second level just below.

The bunks of the second level were all abandoned by that hour. Everyone else in the Guildhall was down on the main level by then. That suited Karl just fine. It was much quieter upstairs, that way. He wasn't in the mood for any of Catius and Henik's bullshit that early in the day. If it came down to it, he was actually expecting problems with Varro, if something didn't come up soon to keep them all occupied.

Of late, the big Orc was feeling rather less comfortable in that chair behind the big desk. Almost three months had passed since the former Guildhead had died. Of course, he wasn't just the head of the Chorrol office. He had been the Guild Master and head of all the affiliated Guildhalls of the Empire. That meant that Karl wasn't just keeping that seat warm as usual. It meant that he was effectively stuck with it, whether he wanted it or not.

Karl smoothed his bushy eyebrows as he cast his thoughts back a few weeks. That was the last time that things seemed relatively normal.

Pinewatch had gone off with Northwind to visit her family back in High Rock. Even with those two absent, they weren't really shorthanded. There wasn't all that much work to go around. Karl had sent Montrose with the Odiil boy to go look into animal attacks at a nearby farm. He also sent Henrik off with them, just to get him out of the Guildhall. It turned out they were only dealing with some wolves again, nothing too big.

Of course, the boss was out somewhere with Sergius Varro and Jena Nonius. As usual, Karl held no idea of what they were up to or where they were. It was probably more unusual if the boss actually told him anything beforehand. He wouldn't generally expect a lot of detail when he did get to hear about it. Still, that was what passed for normal.

It had been late in the first week of First Seed when Varro and Nonius brought the boss's body back to Chorrol. A mechanical trap in the ruins of an ancient Ayleid tomb had taken off his head. Karl had always half expected something like that would eventually happen. The boss was almost as fit as a man half his age, but he had to be over sixty.

The Guildhead had never been one to remain at the Guildhall for any notable length of time. He was almost always off any place else but there, leaving Karl to manage the day to day operations of everything.

Thinking about it, Karl realised that it had pretty much always been like that. It only seemed worse over the past five or six years. The Guildhead would just take off with Varro and Nonius in tow. Nine times out of ten, Karl would remain in the dark until it was all done and dusted. Only after the fact, filing some sort of half-arsed paperwork to justify whatever they'd been doing.

Karl held no idea of how the man had fit in with the Imperial Legion before taking his role in the Fighters Guild. The boss had been a lesser general in Titus Mede's renewed Legion for a brief time. He'd commanded one third of the forces responsible for pacifying County Bravil and bringing it back into the fold of Cyrodilic rule.

Karl had always assumed that he'd been granted the position of head of the Fighters Guild as reward for his service to the Empire. It was reasonable to think that Mede wanted a properly regulated Guild that answered to the throne. During the chaos of the Stormcrown Interregnum, a whole bunch of rag-tag and rogue-like mercenary companies had sprung up all across the land. Just a few of them ran respectable operations. Far more of them seemed more like bandit gangs. Still, Karl wasn't real sure how the boss represented 'properly regulated' anything.

Nevertheless, once the dust had settled over Cyrodiil with a new Emperor on the Ruby Throne, something had to be sorted or it might have been the end of the Fighters Guild. Since Modryn Oreyn was gone and the Guild seemed little more than a shell of its former days, Karl was happy enough to accept Mede's choice of appointment along with the funds that flowed from Imperial coffers.

Of course, none of that had been his choice at all. Back then, Karl was just a lowly first rank member of the Guild. It didn't matter much what he thought.

By that time, there wouldn't have been anybody left in the Chorrol Guildhall but Karl and the old blacksmith, Sabine. His older brothers were lost to him. Even the Guild Porter had been taken away by the unofficial wars. There wouldn't have been anything, if Guildhead Azzan hadn't come over from Anvil to try to keep things afloat. He brought another dark-skinned Redguard with him, Rhano. Still, that didn't make for much of a Fighters Guild head office.

After discussions between the freshly minted Emperor and Azzan, the former General Lusius came in to take the big chair, bringing Varro and Nonius with him. Both of those two were hardly much older than Karl had been. Still, they'd served under the boss in the Legion and he wanted them by his side. So that what was how it went.

Azzan stayed on in Chorrol as second-in-charge for nearly three years. After that, he'd gone over to the port city of Rihad to take charge and look toward the Fighters Guild's interests in eastern Hammerfell. The Guildhalls of Taneth and Elinhir had all but fallen to ruin without Imperial funding and most of the others were gone. He aimed to do something about that. Rhano followed him not long afterward. Azzan had stayed with Rihad right up until he retired. Rhano hadn't lasted quite that long.

The Guildhead soon brought in a few more of his old Legion buddies. More than a few came and went without much fanfare. By now, Karl couldn't even remember half of them. The boss had brought in one of his cousins, another Lusius and former Legion soldier. He'd been quickly promoted to serve as second-in-command. That was when everyone started to just call the Guildhead 'boss', since there were two Lusius's in the Chorrol Guildhall.

Thinking back, Karl recalled that the boss had already started his roaming ways not long after he had his cousin to mind the Guildhall when he was away. Of course, some of it was the proper business of a Guild Master. He needed to visit the other Guildhalls and see that they were all getting back up to scratch. Still, more of more of it seemed to be about just getting out there and getting his hands dirty. The boss seemed to hold to a romanticised image of how the famed Champion of Cyrodiil had handled the Guild during that brief tenure. Of course, the Guild had Modryn Oreyn to keep the wheels turning as the Champion ran about all over the land on endless adventures. In the end, Oreyn assumed the role of Guildhead after the Champion had disappeared. He would probably have still been running things, if he was alive.

The boss's cousin sat in that chair for the better part of two decades, before finally retiring from the Guild. Of course by that time, Karl had risen up through the ranks. Only Varro and Nonius had been with the Guild near as long. Varro wouldn't have been capable of running the place. Nonius might have been capable, but she was far more interested in running around with the boss. The last thing that she wanted was to be left behind.

So, Karl was made second-in-charge. From that time onward, it seemed that most of his days would be chained to the big desk. It seemed the only time that he left the Guildhall was to attend to the visits to other Guildhalls that the boss had neglected in an artful fashion.

Since the death of the boss, Karl had served as acting Guildhead. By now, he'd been serving as second-in-charge of the Guild for nearly eleven years. He knew the job inside out and the place always ran smoothly enough without the boss around, possibly better due to his absence. Nevertheless, Karl remained reluctant to actually assume the role of Guild Master.

Both the Elder Council and Emperor Mede had sent messages, pressuring him to either step up or organise a suitable replacement. So far, he'd not managed to achieve either thing.

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><p>Karl gro-Baroth realised he'd been daydreaming, instead of looking to the task at hand. He rubbed the slight ridges along the bridge of his nose. With a sense of weary purpose, he returned his attention to the list of names that he'd previously made.<p>

Leaving aside any unaffiliated Guildhalls in those lands no longer part of the Empire, went some way toward narrowing things down considerably. A few others were just as easily ruled out for various other reasons.

Bravil's Guildhall was already shorthanded and couldn't afford to lose anyone, let alone the Guildhead. It was the same with Elinhir.

The port town of Water's Edge didn't even have a proper Guildhall. It was just those four in that makeshift hall. The only reason there was even any Guild presence in Water's Edge, was due to the unexpected boom of growth that the place experienced during the Stormcrown Interregnum. When Leyawiin and Bravil had rebelled from Imperial rule, that small town had served as an unaligned trading port. Of course, that was only possible due to the support of independent Rimmen. That easternmost city-state of Elsweyr needed safe access to Topal Bay during the turmoil and neither Bravil nor Leyawiin were in a position to provide that.

Karl ran a hand over his baldhead as he considered the others on his list.

Guillard was the Redguard in charge of Bruma's Guildhall. He managed a bunch of unruly Nords. He was certainly competent, but probably not experienced enough to take over all the Guild's operation. At least, not in Karl's opinion.

Drals Vedran of Cheydinhal was a different matter. From the way that he ran his Guildhall, he seemed like a good choice. Still, he did seem mostly motivated by upholding Dunmer interests in Cheydinhal. Almost half the people of that city were gray-skinned Dark-Elves and more than half of those in his Guildhall were his people. If they were looking to rebuild the infrastructure in Morrowind, then he'd be the right one for that job.

That put him in mind of Razaal of Rihad. He was the right person for Rihad, but he was more interested in his own part of Hammerfell than the Fighters Guild as a whole.

Llensi Llaram was the Dunmer in charge of Anvil's Guildhall. She certainly had the experience. She'd started as a fresh recruit under Azzan. In some respects, it seemed that she'd run the same race as Karl. Still, she'd only made Guildhead by being the only one that stayed that long. She was no more motivated to take over as Guild Master than he was.

Karl knew that he'd never persuade Farrel to leave Kvatch. She'd been there since the rebuilding of the city after the Oblivion Crisis. The wily Bosmer liked to run things her own way. It was hard to imagine how she'd take to looking over a broader perspective.

Skingrad's Guildhead was a different sort of prospect. Karl held a lot of respect for her. He always thought that Adrienne Canne would make a perfectly capable head of the Fighters Guild. He wasn't certain she could be convinced to leave Skingrad, but it could be well worth the conversation.

The last one on his list was Etrius Quaspas, head of the Leyawiin Guildhall. By then, Leyawiin had as many people in the Guildhall as Chorrol and Quaspus' second could probably step up to take his place. Karl had only met with him a few times, but he didn't quite take to him, without really knowing why. Maybe there was a touch of Nibenese smugness about him; that would probably do it. He didn't know how he'd feel about working with him.

There was something else. Quaspas' father had fought on the side of independent Leyawiin during the Stormcrown Interregnum and that was a mark against him, of sorts. Still, Etrius had been perfectly loyal to the crown after Titus Mede had reunited all of Cyrodiil.

Karl rubbed the bridge of his nose again. All he was doing was finding excuses for not selecting anyone from the list of possible candidates. If it came to that, he'd just been making excuses for not accepting the role himself for nearly three months.

Once again, it occurred to him that if he'd been serious about finding a replacement in short order, then he should have been out there talking to the other Guildheads, instead of stalling for inspiration from the Nine Divines.

Still, it wasn't as though the Fighters Guild had come to a standstill without the boss around. Karl had kept everything moving along, just like business as usual. The only thing he hadn't attended was actually filling the boss's boots. Either way, it was still all up to him. Well, mostly up to him.

It wasn't like Varro or Nonius were really suited to the job. They weren't even up for the position of second, despite holding the same rank level as Karl. He wasn't even sure that they'd stick around for much longer.

He'd had to promote Francois Montrose up to seventh rank and appoint him as acting second. Before that time, he'd considered Montrose no more than a fair Guild Fighter and an excellent trainer for the younger lads. Over the past few weeks, he was actually starting to think that the locally born Breton might make a good administrator, once he'd been properly brought up to speed. Karl was actually a little surprised.

He shuffled a few letters on his desk. There was one in particular that offered distraction. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He paused over it again for a lengthy moment.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Karl."<p>

The big Orc looked up with a start. He hadn't heard Northwind come up the stairs at all, but he recognised her voice. Her accent was an odd blend of High Rock with a hint of northern Skyrim and then further altered by the past decade she'd passed in Cyrodiil.

"Monika." Karl's grin exposed his tusklike lower canines. "When'd you get back in?"

"Got back last night." She returned a friendly grin and pulled up a seat. Her fair hair was tied back exposing her slightly pointed ears and the lightly bronze-tinged colouring about the back of her neck. Northwind's appearance was a result of her mixed heritage. Her father was Nord, but her mother was Altmer. Still, there was none of that High-Elf snobbery about her.

"Where's Pinewatch?" Karl prompted. Those two were usually joined at the hip, more literally so, on their own time.

"Downstairs with Vinnus." She'd been out on a job with Alex and young Vinnus Odiil for the past few days. "Vinnus stayed at the family farm last night. Must've been up before dawn, cos' he was just coming up the street as we got here." Monika and Alex always stayed at the inn by the south gates, rather than bunking in the Guildhall.

Karl's expectant gaze preceded his prompt. "So, how'd it go then?"

Monika shrugged. "Nothin' special. Just wolves. Legion could've dealt with it." They'd been sent to look into the disappearance of livestock from the farms outside of Weye. That township was just outside of the Imperial City, where The Black Road from Chorrol met The Red Ring Road that surrounded Lake Rumare and the Imperial Isle.

"What took so long then?"

Monika shrugged again and wrinkled her nose. "Wawnett Inn."

Karl understood. Nerussa, the old Altmer woman that ran the inn, had been a close friend of Monika's mother, from back when her parents lived in the Imperial City. Just last year, Monika had bought into the inn, though she didn't have much to do with actually running it.

"So then, how is the old girl?" Karl knew Nerussa, if only very casually.

Monika waved a hand dismissively. "Same as usual. She's okay, for her age. Except for her eyesight, 'course."

Karl nodded. He knew that she'd been going blind for years. She'd been far too fond of those exotic concoctions that she used to collect. Finding the proper document, he pushed it across the desk. "Should get you signed off on that contract."

Monika took up the quill and ink and signed in the proper places, adding a short note about the wolves. Meanwhile, Karl rose from the desk to retrieve payment from the lockup chest, before returning to his seat.

"That's the gold for you and Alex. You can send up Odiil later."

Monika idly watched Karl shuffle through some documents on his desk. "Got anything there for me?"

"Not exactly." Karl shuffled some papers before pausing on one in particular. "Got news about one of ya' friends here. Canne officially accepted Maplewood to Skingrad."

"That's good." Her expression reflected her approval. "Thought Canne might have been hard-arsed about her quitting Kvatch."

"Yeah, well. I reckon ya' other friend mighta swayed her a bit."

"Forester." Monika suggested.

"Yeah, Forester."

"Anything about Sentinel?" Monika was wondering whether anything was going to happen after what went down a couple of month's back.

"Nothin' yet. Sent word over to Razaal in Rihad. Told him that Taimar should stay on in Sentinel and he should send another one over there. That makes four of 'em, now. Still gonna take a bit of negotiatin' to get a proper Guildhall happening. Til then, they can keep operating out of the Legion garrison."

Monika nodded. "Well, who's gonna be doing the negotiating?"

"Off my back, woman. Already gettin' enough of that." His grimace exposed his lower canines in a slightly menacing fashion, but the smile in his dark eyes undermined the threat.

Monika held his stare with her amber gaze. "Y'know, you're gonna have to do something soon."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." He held up a messy list of names with notes and marks. "I been going over the possibilities. Just ain't made no decisions."

"Have you talked to any of the other Guildheads?"

"Sort of. With the usual back and forth messages."

Monika's raised eyebrows served as a silent challenge.

Karl gestured with open hands. "Ain't no one putting up their hand, if that's what you're gettin' at." He released a long sigh. "Might end up with no choice."

Monika had noticed how he kept fidgeting with a particular document, picking it up and putting it back down. He was glancing down at it again. "What's that about?"

Karl blinked with a slightly guilty expression. "Yeah, ah… reports from Wayrest."

Monika frowned. "The ones we brought back from the Wayrest Guildhall? From whatshername… Wickfield?"

"Yeah, Wickfield." Karl affirmed. "And no, these ones came just last week."

Monika knew that the Wayrest Guildhall didn't answer directly to Chorrol. They still followed the Guild Charter, but they'd been on their own since the Interregnum, operating under local funding. They only kept in touch as a matter of courtesy. "So, what's it about?"

Karl released another long sigh. "Most of it's just the usual." He paused. "Been some trouble with local Orcs lately. Some of 'em coming down from the mountains. Goin' on about how the Empire owed 'em a new Orsinium."

Monika nodded slightly. Of course, she knew of how Daggerfall and Sentinel had participated in the sacking of the Orc city near the end of the Interregnum. Wayrest had managed to stay out of it. Afterward, the Queen of Wayrest had lobbied Titus Mede to support what remained of the Orc settlements throughout the Wrothgarian Mountains as an Orsinium state. There were lots of villages, strongholds and one or two small townships up there, but the old city of Orsinium was nothing but ruins.

Karl resumed. "The City Watch had one troublemaker in the lockup for weeks. He was part of a group that were agitating for Orc rights in High Rock and a new Orsinium city."

Monika interrupted. "We saw a wild Orc carried off in the middle of the city, when we were up there."

"Yeah? Mighta been the same one. Doesn't matter. Anyway, he eventually gave up some names of some of the others he was running with." Karl paused to look to her. "One of 'em went by Uzgark gro-Baroth."

"Baroth?" Monika's furrowed brow implied further questions.

"Yeah, dunno. News to me. Far as I knew, I was the last one."

"Uzgark?"

"Yeah, the old man's name was Baroth gro-Uzgark."

Monika nodded slowly. She remembered how traditional Orc sons took the father's name and daughters usually got the same from their mothers, but with a 'gra'. It seemed far too coincidental to just be the son of another Orc called Baroth. She looked back to Karl. "Did they find him?"

Karl shook his head. "If he was ever there, then he got out of the city."

"Maybe, it needs looking into."

"Can't just go running off."

"Wouldn't have stopped the boss."

"I ain't him."

"No, you're not." She paused for a lengthy moment. "If there's a chance you have a brother that you've never known about…"

Karl huffed with another heavy sigh. He shook his head slightly and stared off to the side toward nothing in particular.

Monika broke the silence. "Y'know, if you were serious about talking to some of the other Guildheads, then you should probably be visiting them."

"Yeah, maybe." Karl didn't look at her.

Monika wasn't finished. "Someone needs to talk to the King of Sentinel about getting a proper Guildhall up and running. That's not gonna sort itself." She paused. "I was thinking… if there was a proper conversation, Wayrest might even be convinced to come all the way back into the fold. If that happened, then maybe Daggerfall could be leaned on as well. Daggerfall never sits back quietly if it looks like Wayrest is making the right moves with Imperial concerns."

"Divines, woman. You angling for second-in-charge?"

Monika returned a crooked smile. "Nah, wouldn't want that. Looks to me like it causes premature aging."

Karl only grunted without intelligible response. He knew that only months separated their ages, both of them born in the first year of the current era. She only looked much younger due to her Altmer blood. The Orsimer lived no longer than regular humans.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Monika pressed.

"I'm gonna give it some thought."

Monika decided to leave it at that. "So then, what's next?"

Karl scratched an itch on the point of his left ear. "Yeah, well… until there's something on the books…"

"Training?"

"Yeah, training."

"Got it." Monika started to get up.

Karl called out as she started for the stairs. "Oh, yeah. Can I get ya' to send up Montrose? I s'pose, I might need to have a talk with him."

"Will do." Monika called back as she headed off back downstairs.

Karl again picked over the papers on his desk. He was just thinking that he needed to start doing a lot less thinking and a whole lot more doing. Maybe that was the day to make a good start on that.

~O~


	2. Chapter 2

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 2

Middas the 2nd of Midyear 4E49

Karl gro-Baroth was up before the dawn that morning. He was loaded up with his backpack and weapons and leaving the Guildhall before the sun had peeked over the eastern Valus Mountains. There were very few people out and about as he headed past the Great Oak of the plaza and down the main street of Chorrol. He'd seen only two others out on the streets before exchanging nods with the sleepy guard on duty by the south gates.

Karl passed through the main gates of the city, then along the road up the middle of South Chorrol, the area outside the stone walls. Straight ahead, there were several open market stalls along each side of the road. None of them were operating at that early hour. He could still remember when none of that was out there. Well, a lot less of it anyway.

Back when Karl first came to that city as a lad, there was just the old stables and the recently completed office and warehouse of the Imperial Trading Company. Those trade buildings only came about as Potentate Ocato was trying to hold the Empire together with no proper emperor on the Ruby Throne. He'd been working at getting set-ups like that at all the major cities of Cyrodiil. He hadn't quite finished that task before some bastard killed him.

Out the front of Chorrol, things had changed a lot since then. The first big changes came about thirty years back. That was near the end of the Stormcrown Interregnum. A lot of Colovians were flocking toward Chorrol and Titus Mede was raising his army. Mede had his main camp inside the walls, just outside Castle Chorrol. The Empire Inn was later built on that site. Around then, there'd been a lot more camps outside the walls.

Since that time, the old stables were gone. The new set up was just a bit further along, across the road from the Imperial Trading Company. Just outside the gates, on the immediate right, there were now a couple of wooden houses and big stone manor just behind them. There was a small farm tucked away behind the stabling facilities.

Of course, most of that stuff on the left-hand side was more recent. After that flying city from Oblivion had sent people fleeing from Cheydinhal, Chorrol ended up with another boost in population. Some of the refugees ended up in Bruma or the Imperial City, but a whole bunch came to Chorrol. Not all of them went back to Cheydinhal with the rebuilding.

South Chorrol was now a proper sized district. Near the crook in the southern wall of the city, there were two rows of smaller houses. About sixteen of them, with a narrow path up the middle. There were also another couple of crop fields just up on the rise in front of the wall on that side, near the old sealed-up mine.

Karl was headed straight up the road for the Imperial Trading Company. He'd already arranged to hitch a ride on a trade wagon headed for Skingrad. Of course, he could have organised a horse for himself, but he didn't really see the need. He was only going directly from city to city, with no intention of going off the beaten path.

The wagon was already out of the stable yard and out the front of the Imperial Trading Company. They were just finishing up with loading the last of the crates.

The trade wagon would be headed directly for Skingrad via the Hackdirt Road, the back way between those two cities. Aside from the wagon driver and guard, the only live cargo to load up into the back was Karl.

The sun was just starting to peer over the mountains as they got under way. Soon enough, the wagon was turning onto The Black Road, headed southward. Karl sat in the back, perched upon the crates and making the best use of the sacks of grain to rest his back.

They passed by the familiar sight of the ruins of an old Oblivion Gate on the hillside just above the road. It was mostly obscured by trees and shrubs. The ruins of the base of an old stone tower were covered in vine growth. However, the two oddly curved spires still rose up defiantly from the centre of those ruins. After nearly fifty years, the jagged tips of those black spires still held that blood red colouring.

It didn't look like much by now, but Karl knew the story well enough. That was the Oblivion Gate that directly threatened Chorrol during the Oblivion Crisis. They say that the Champion of Cyrodiil was responsible for destroying that gateway and saving the city from the Daedric creatures that were spilling out of it.

Karl hadn't even been born until almost a year after it all happened, but he'd heard enough first hand accounts about the Oblivion Crisis. Those that were there spoke of how those gates had opened with a burst of light and fire. Those spires were part of a large arch that framed the open gateway to the Oblivion realm of Mehrunes Dagon. The whole thing was supposed to have glowed with fire and strange shimmering light. All the plant life died around the thing. Even decades later, nothing grew right about the base of the spires.

A little further along the road, the wagon soon rolled past the Weynon Priory settlement. The chapel and the large priory house were nearest to the road. There were several more structures behind the main buildings at the front. A few houses and the stabling facilities with some small farms were further behind that.

A lesser road turned off and went through the middle of the place. It joined up with The Orange Road to Bruma just east of Chorrol.

Less than three leagues out from Chorrol, the wagon turned off onto the Hackdirt Road. The wagon driver and guard occasionally chatted, but mostly left Karl to his own devices. He expected he'd have plenty of time to think about things that day.

* * *

><p>Over the past two days, it turned out that Karl had grown somewhat more decisive after his talk with Monika Northwind. Of course, he hadn't actually decided to assume the status of Guild Master, but he had decided to start acting more like the head of the Guild. After all, he figured that's what an acting Guildhead should be doing.<p>

Before going anywhere, he needed to make sure that Montrose was organised to fill in as acting second during his absence. He also asked Monika to have his back. He knew that she didn't like Montrose that much, but she could be trusted to do the right thing. Added to that, he knew that Pinewatch would also have her back if there were any disputes. If she'd held seniority, he might have preferred her as acting second. So long as Varro and Nonius didn't cause any grief, everything ought to stay under control, for the most part.

Informing Montrose, Karl made his plans to visit to a few other Guildhalls and speak with the Guildheads. The first part of that plan was taking him westward. He intended to make brief stops at Skingrad, Kvatch and Anvil. After that, he hoped to catch a westbound ship over to Rihad, then head up into Iliac Bay.

Karl intended to see if he could do something about Sentinel. After the events of a couple of months earlier, the ruler of Sentinel was already open to having a proper Fighters Guild presence in the city. He'd even become more receptive to an increased presence of the Imperial Legion in the region. After what almost happened within the walls of his own city, the King was well motivated to ensure a greater level of cooperation between the City Guard, the Order of the Candle and any other protectors of Sentinel. Most of the hard sell was already done. It just needed a little push to move things along.

Since he'd be nearby, Karl was going to head up to Wayrest for a short visit. He was following Monika's logic with that one. Like she suggested, if there was any way that Wayrest could be persuaded back into the fold, then there was a good chance that the rest of that region might follow that lead.

He didn't expect that Guildhead Wickfield would just fall over and reconnect with the Chorrol office like that. Still, the conversation needed to start somewhere. A personal visit might go a long way toward bringing those Guildhalls back together.

While he was in Wayrest, Karl would have the opportunity to look into whether there was another son of Baroth living in the area. He didn't know of any long lost missing brother, but that name was just too much to be coincidence, Uzgark gro-Baroth.

After that, he expected to be heading back to Cyrodiil. One way or another, he planned to sort the matter of who'd be the head of the Fighters Guild. He was giving himself six weeks to get it sorted. He said as much in the message he sent off the Elder Council before leaving Chorrol.

Karl was distracted from his thoughts as the wagon made a brief stop at the mining township of Hackdirt. He climbed out of the wagon to stretch his legs for a few moments as a single crate and two barrels were unloaded.

The township of Hackdirt had a few small farms, but the mines were what kept the place going. More so, since they recently expanded into fresh veins of ore. It didn't hurt that it was so close to Chorrol along one of the roads that led there. It didn't get a whole lot of passing trade, but enough to keep things ticking along.

Decades back, there'd been trouble with the residents of Hackdirt, involving some sort of Daedric worship. From what Karl heard, the Champion of Cyrodiil put a stop to it at one point, but that didn't really end it for good. Not until a small Legion outpost became a permanent fixture in the town. Since then, Hackdirt hadn't seen any repeat of that sort of thing.

Soon enough, the wagon was on the road again, leaving Hackdirt behind. A lone Legion rider passed in the opposite direction, headed toward the town. The soldier plodded along at a leisurely pace. Evidently, he was just out on regular patrol.

The road wound through the western edge of The Great Forest. The dappled sunlight filtered down through the canopy overheard. The noises of the forest birds provided a general air of calm.

Sitting in the back of the wagon, Karl cast his mind back to his namesake. That man had been a close friend of both of his parents. In fact, he was easily their closest friend back in Orcrest. He actually helped bring Karl into the world when his father was away at the time. That was how he ended up with that decidedly non-Orcish name.

Karl Fairbeard was the Nord that ended up raising him after his mother died and his father had disappeared. He surely would have told him if he had any other siblings. If he actually knew of it, that is.

Though Fairbeard believed that Karl had two older brothers, it was only later that they eventually found them living up in Chorrol. Kurz and Lum didn't even know they had a younger brother until they showed up at Chorrol back then.

Over time, Karl had eventually pieced together most of the broader history of his father's life. Firstly from what Fairbeard knew and then more of it later, from what his older brothers told him.

Karl tried to recall his father's face. He hadn't seen him since he was just seven years old. He supposed that Lum looked a lot like his father. Except of course, his father was in his fifties when he last saw him. He had just a tuft of grayed hair on the top of his head and a big scar across his face from when he lost his left eye. Aside from that, Karl found it difficult to really imagine his father's face with any great clarity.

He thought about what he did know of his father. Baroth gro-Uzgark had been born in a stronghold in the Western Reach of High Rock. That had to have been in 3E384, since he turned fifty the year that Karl was born. He didn't know much more of his father's early years, except that he ran away at fifteen.

Then, at eighteen he'd hooked up with an Orc girl from another stronghold and the pair of them ran off together headed out of there. Grazar gra-Lumbakh was her name. She was the mother of Kurz and Lum.

As he understood it, Baroth and Grazar passed through Skyrim on their way down to Cyrodiil. They couldn't stay where they were. What they were doing wasn't all that uncommon, but a lot of those Orc strongholds didn't take kindly to it. Might've been a different thing in Orsinium or one of the bigger towns, but that wasn't what happened.

Eventually, the pair of them made it to the Imperial City in Cyrodiil. They both managed to get some work about the place, if not anything permanent. Grazar did some work for some of the smiths and armourers of the city. She'd been training for that sort of thing since she was small. Baroth mostly took whatever odd jobs he could find. From what Karl had heard, that was mostly working as a guard for trade wagons and the like.

During that time, they'd lived in a tiny rented shack down in the Waterfront District. It was the best that a pair of foreign Orcs living in that city could expect to afford. Still, that wasn't too bad, since they came there with nothing.

It wasn't too long before Kurz came along and then Lum about a year later. Only going from what his mother had said, Kurz had told him that they'd really struggled to bring in enough gold during those years. At least, until the brothers were old enough for Grazar to chase after regular work again. Even then, it was still a struggle with what Baroth brought in from odd jobs.

Kurz would have been ten when his father signed up with the Legion. He'd been part of a group that were sent off to Black Marsh to deal some trouble around that time. For Baroth, it was just about the gold that he'd be earning for his family. It was only supposed to be for three years and it paid far better than anything else he'd been doing.

Karl imagined that the Legion mustn't have been that effective in Black Marsh. Just twenty years later, the Argonians had pretty much defended themselves from the Daedric hordes during the Oblivion Crisis. From what he'd heard, they'd probably done a much better job of it than those of most other lands. Not long after that, the amphibious Argonians of Black Marsh had seceded from the Empire, under the leadership of the An-Xileel faction.

Either way, Black Marsh had still been part of the Empire during the time that Baroth served in the Legion. Three years soon became six as he signed on for a second term and remained in Black Marsh.

It was during the sixth year that Grazar stopped receiving payment for her husband's service. During the early part of the seventh year, she'd been moved to action. More than two years had passed since she'd received any scrawled messages from Baroth. By then, she decided that he was either dead or else he'd run off.

Grazar had taken Kurz and Lum and firstly headed off for Cheydinhal. She'd heard there were a few Orcish merchants over there and that she might even be able to secure regular smithing work. Apparently, that hadn't worked out so well. After just a short time, she'd taken the boys and headed over to Chorrol. She managed to get some part time work smithing for the Fighters Guild. She also managed to get some additional work with that old Redguard woman that ran the blacksmith store in town.

According to Kurz, what his mother earned was only barely enough for them to get by. That was when his brother started to try to get into the Fighters Guild. It took nearly a year before he managed to make it from recruit to first rank.

It was from Fairbeard, that Karl learned how his father had returned from Black Marsh to find that his family was no longer in the Imperial City. Baroth had returned to the Waterfront District of the city expecting to find Grazar and the boys, but they'd left that small shack behind and nobody he could get to could tell him where they'd gone.

Matters were further complicated by Baroth's own actions. He hadn't actually been released from service to the Legion. It was more the case that he'd gotten himself into some trouble in the east and then abandoned his duties, before running off back to Cyrodiil. Karl never did learn the full detail of it.

Karl's train of thought was interrupted as the wagon pulled up unexpectedly. He recognised the noise coming up from ahead. He'd heard that kind of guttural grunting and screeching many a time before.

He stood up partway in the back of the wagon and turned toward the road ahead. A large and hairy troll was standing in the middle of the road, stomping its feet and waving its huge hairy paws. The troll stood its ground, rather than advancing. Still, its raucous bellowing clearly agitated the horse, causing it to nearly break loose from the wagon.

The wagon's guard was still sizing up the situation as Karl climbed down from the back of the wagon. The guard had started shouting and waving his sword, but the creature showed no sign of retreat.

Karl strode forward to the front of the wagon. "Lemme handle this."

"You got it." The wagon's guard stood prepared to act, but deferred to Karl.

Karl approached the blustering beast, brandishing his battleaxe. He yelled at the big hairy troll. "Go on, get outa here, ya dumb bastard."

The troll held its ground, stomping and howling. Karl held his axe at the ready, waiting to see whether the creature would attack or retreat. The beast froze in place for just a moment, staring back with its three dark eyes.

Suddenly, it bared its jagged fangs and took a swipe at Karl with its huge clawed paw. Karl ducked out of the way, if just barely. He came back up swinging and smacked the troll with his large battleaxe. It was just a glancing blow that struck the big creature across its shoulder. The beast staggered slightly, then lunged for another strike. Karl dodged the lumbering beast a second time. He returned with one well-placed blow. The axe sliced into its neck and the troll went down with a gurgling howl. Karl kicked the creature clear as he withdrew his weapon. Then brought the axe down once more to properly finish it off.

Karl released a grunt of satisfaction, before turning back to the wagon driver and guard. "Well, that's that." His toothy grin reflected his passing sense of triumph. "You wanna give me a hand clearing this thing outa the way?"

The guard clambered down to help him drag the carcass off the road. After that, they were soon back on their way and headed along the road toward the horse breeding settlement of Brindle Home.

* * *

><p>Sitting in the back of the wagon again, Karl tried to recall what he was thinking about before the interruption. After a moment, he soon remembered. He was going over what he knew of his father's life.<p>

He'd been thinking it was about twelve years before the Oblivion Crisis, when Baroth had returned from Black Marsh as a fugitive from the Imperial Legion. That made things rather difficult when he learned that his family had disappeared during his absence.

According to Fairbeard, Baroth had tried to look for his wife and children, but the few people that he knew weren't very helpful. An old woman that lived by the waterfront had told him that Grazar had moved on and left him behind.

Baroth didn't want to believe that Grazar had really left him, but he wasn't in much of a position to prove otherwise. Since he was dodging the Legion, he couldn't be very public with his efforts to find them.

After a close call with a city guard that recognised him, Baroth had to get out of the Imperial City. If he'd gone north, he might have stumbled upon something that led him to learn of Grazar's whereabouts. However, he'd gone south and headed for Bravil.

Baroth had passed the following three or four years doing odd jobs in Bravil and Leyawiin and parts in between. He often worked as a guard for hire and the like. He'd had enough sense to go by a false name, but not enough sense to be all that imaginative. Barok gro-Uzgath was just a little too close to his real name. He was eventually found out by someone that used to serve with the Legion and then he needed to go on the run again.

Baroth ran with rogues and bandits for a couple of years. Before that, he used to fight off those types, before becoming one of them. He'd not been proud of it, but that was what he needed to do to get by.

Apparently, his father had heard stories of opportunities in the city of Rimmen, located in the eastern region of Elsweyr. Before his luck ran out, he ditched the outlaws and made his way through the wilderness headed for that place.

Back in the time of the second era, Rimmen had been an important city under the Akaviri Potentate. Given that much of the stone city was originally constructed by the Akaviri, and built to last, it was still an important place.

Karl had never been there, but he'd heard about it and seen a few paintings. One of them was just a landscape that depicted the city from the outside, with its tall walls of ivory-coloured stone and the forested mountain rising behind it. Another one showed the outside of the famed shrine of Tonenaka located near the palace.

It was the painting he'd often seen in a store in Orcrest when he was very young that fascinated him most. It was an image of the main marketplace and plaza of Rimmen. Domed buildings lined the outer plaza and narrow canals ran right through the place with several footbridges at regular intervals. The painting depicted rows of open market stalls and crowds of people representing a mix of all the races of the lands. It seemed so very different from the plain mud-brick structures of Orcrest.

It could be argued that Rimmen was one of the most cosmopolitan cities of Tamriel outside of the Imperial City in Cyrodiil. Though Karl had never been there, those that he knew to have visited the place certainly agreed with that notion.

It would have been about four years before the Oblivion Crisis when Karl's father made it to Rimmen. That was where he first met Karl Fairbeard.

It was Fairbeard that helped his father avoid working for the drug smugglers that operated in Rimmen by warning him off. He also helped Baroth get work with the mercenary companies that provided guards for the more legitimate traders.

The pair of them became fast friends during that time, often working together. His father remained in Rimmen for almost three years, working most of that time.

It was less than two years before the Oblivion Crisis, after their second trip over to Orcrest, when the pair of them left Rimmen behind.

Of course, it was Baroth who was most interested in relocating to that place. After all, it was probably one of the most concentrated populace of Orcs outside of Orsinium. For Fairbeard, it was more about a change of scenery.

It wouldn't have been as though Orcrest provided for better work opportunities, but there was still work to be found. There was some work around Orcrest and the trade caravans still needed guards. Orcrest might have looked like it was in the middle of nowhere, but it was situated along the major trade routes of Elsweyr.

Of course, trade flowed back east toward Rimmen. The westward route crossed the deserts of Anequina to the city of Dune. The northbound trade headed for Riverhold, near the border with Cyrodiil. To the south, the caravans headed for Corinthe and other parts of the old Pellitine beyond.

It was in Orcrest that Baroth met Alba gra-Aglash, Karl's mother. She'd been a soldier in the City Guard of that city. He knew that they'd all fought together to defend Orcrest from the Oblivion Gate that opened up not far from the city walls. Less than a year afterward, Karl was born.

Karl's mind drifted as he tried to recall fond childhood memories from his early days in Orcrest. Back before his mother had died and his father had disappeared.

* * *

><p>It was just starting to grow dark as the trade wagon turned onto The Gold Road, not so far from Skingrad. Aside from stopping for a piss-break outside of Brindle Home, the journey had remained perfectly uneventful since that encounter with the troll on the road.<p>

The sunset was actually much later that time of year. It was only about three weeks short of the summer solstice. It still took the better part of an hour to arrive at the main city gates of Skingrad, around the western side of the walls.

Once the wagon had pulled up by the stables, Karl thanked his fellow travellers and they parted company. After a brief chat with the duty guard by the city entrance, Karl passed through the main gates into The Low Street. It had been at least a couple of years since he'd been over to Skingrad, but he knew his way around well enough.

That city was divided into three main districts. Technically it was four districts, if you actually chose to include the central area of The Low Street that divided the two largest parts of the city, as some of its citizens did.

The Low Street wasn't really a district in any true sense. Long ago, The Gold Road used to run right through the city, instead of skirting along the northern and eastern walls of Skingrad. That wide street ran through the middle of the city from east to west, with the main gates at the western end. There were just the two notable permanent structures in The Low Street. The local office of the Imperial Trading Company and its warehouse were situated about half way along on one side. The rest of it was occupied by the stalls of the open trading markets. Those markets had closed up for the day by the time that Karl arrived.

To the right, the Chapel District occupied the southern side of Skingrad. Karl was headed left for the Hightown District. The other main part of the city was actually located outside the main walls. The Castle Skingrad District was situated upon a tall and fortified hill just beyond the southern walls.

He passed under the overhead footbridge and turned to walk up onto The High Street, the main thoroughfare that ran up the middle of the northern district. The local Fighters Guild was located on that main street, just past the West Weald Inn.

Arriving at the Guildhall, Karl pushed open the front doors and stepped inside. There was no one immediately in view, but he could hear some voices in the room off to the right. It was not yet all that late, but probably a little late to be going up to see Canne. Besides, he had a few other more immediate matters on his mind.

Karl's attention was drawn toward the old porter shuffling toward him from the side room on the left. He took a moment to recall his name, Fadus Calidius. The old Imperial man had to be at least eighty, but he refused to retire. Not while he could still serve the Guild in some fashion.

"Calidius." Karl addressed the old Imperial.

The elderly porter eyeballed him briefly, before raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Karl gro-Baroth." The Orc identified himself.

"Yeah, I know." Calidius grumbled. "Bit late, isn't it? You here to see Canne?"

"Yeah, but it can wait til mornin'."

Calidius nodded his assent.

"Right now, I just wanna use the bathroom facilities. Then get somethin' to eat and a bunk for the night."

Calidius paused with a stern gaze. "I expect you know where everything is?"

"Yeah."

"Right, then." The elderly porter turned and shuffled back into the side room.

Returning from the bathroom facilities, Karl passed an Argonian and an Imperial man headed for the common area upstairs. If either of them recognised him, they passed no comment, otherwise engrossed in a conversation about the best way to take down goblins.

Karl headed straight for the room they'd just come from. He knew he could find food and drink in there. There was just one other person in the room, seated at a table with half a plate of food and perusing a book.

He looked like one of those Suthay Khajiit. Shorter than the Suthay-raht and with those feline-shaped feet that don't fit into regular boots. Though he was short, the Khajiit carried a muscular frame. Upon his head, he wore his golden mane in shorter braids. His sandy coloured tail slowly swished from side to side as he read his book.

The cat looked up from his book with an expression of curiosity in his dark green Khajiit eyes. He observed Karl as he set about grabbing some food for himself and filling a tankard from the ale barrel.

Since the Khajiit was watching him so closely, he introduced himself as he approached the table to sit down. "Karl gro-Baroth. Fighters Guild. Outa Chorrol.

"This one is called Ras'Dar." The diminutive Khajiit offered.

"I heard that name before." Karl gave him a good long look. "You the one that came from Elsweyr? Just last year?"

"That is true. You have heard of Ras'Dar, yes?"

"Yeah. Coupla my people mentioned you."

"Baroth." Ras'Dar whispered. "You are that one?" His ears twitched upward slightly and an expression of recognition washed across his unusually stubby snout.

Karl made a dismissive gesture with his free hand. "Yeah, yeah. No big deal. You last long enough; someone might make you second one day. Might even have to take over as a Guildhead, if ya live that long."

"Ras'Dar cannot imagine such a thing."

Karl chewed on a piece of pork before responding. "Yeah, well… woulda said pretty much the same thing when I was a young fella. So, there ya go."

Ras'Dar seemed to study the big Orc at length. He looked like he was trying to decide whether Karl's comments were actually serious, or else some sort of joke that he didn't quite understand.

After chewing on another piece of pork, Karl shifted the focus. "Watcha readin'?"

The Khajiit held up the book with obvious enthusiasm. It was the current edition of the Fighters Guild Charter and Guide.

Karl chuckled lightly. "Heh, that thing. I reckon it's changed more in the past few decades than the last coupla centuries. Used to be a lot thinner."

Ras'Dar wasn't sure how to take the comments. "Khajiit is not the fastest of readers, but this one believes it must be important to know the wisdom of these texts, yes?"

Karl finished chewing before responding. "Can't hurt."

Ras'Dar made a show of returning to the pages of the book.

Karl continued eating, glancing toward the stocky little cat only casually.

Once he'd finished with his meal of pork and vegetables, Karl gave his tankard of ale more serious thought. He'd had better ale before, but it wasn't too bad. He thought it was a local brew, but he couldn't figure which one, since the barrel wasn't marked.

After taking another sip of his ale, Karl directed an idle question. "You ever been down to Orcrest?"

"Yes, yes. This one had travelled there more than once." The Khajiit grinned enthusiastically.

"Spent my first few years down there as a young'n." Karl gestured with his ale. "Ain't seen it in years. Dunno what it's like now."

Ras'Dar responded. "There are many Orc people in Orcrest. More than Khajiit." His ears dropped slightly. "Too dry and dusty for this one to like. Dry and dusty, just like the city of Dune."

Karl smirked. "Yeah. Sounds about right. Ain't like this."

"Ras'Dar found Riverhold and the northern forests much more likeable. Until the…" He paused and looked around nervously. "This one is not meant to say."

Karl waved a hand dismissively, but kept his voice fairly low. "Yeah, I heard somethin'. Ya got chased by some of them Thalmor elves that weren't s'posed to be outside of their borders. Don't want to go spookin' the civilians with that. Good thing to keep quiet about that."

Ras'Dar nodded solemnly. "Khajiit can be very quiet, when it is a good thing."

"Good for you." Karl offered a friendly grin. "I reckon I might leave you to your readin' and find me a bunk for the night."

The Khajiit reflected Karl's grin, returning a silent nod of acknowledgment as the Orc cleaned up his mess and departed.

Karl noticed the old porter sitting in a chair in the room across the other side of the main entryway. Calidius looked like he'd dozed off in that seated position. He ignored the old man and made his way up to the second level to find a bunk in the common area.

There were obviously more bunks than bodies. He selected one that appeared unclaimed and turned in for the night. He had stuff to do in the morning, but it was going to be more talking than doing. He'd worry about all that after a good night's rest.

~O~


	3. Chapter 3

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 3

Turdas the 3rd of Midyear 4E49

Contrary to what he might have reasonably expected, the past day must have been far more tiring than he thought. Karl gro-Baroth slept a little later than he'd intended. Actually, it was probably a lot later than he intended.

Judging from the sunlight coming through the windows, it must have been well after seven. Normally, he would have been up and about for at least an hour by then. He was only woken by the sounds of unfamiliar voices.

It sounded like the scaly Argonian and his Imperial comrade were still arguing about goblins. That's what they had been doing the previous evening when they headed upstairs. It seemed that they'd only interrupted that discussion to take the time to sleep.

They vaguely reminded him of Henrik and Catius. Those two idiots were always arguing about something. Usually, it was over something stupid. They were competent enough Guild Fighters, but neither of them were the sharpest blades in the armoury.

"Temel-Za." The Imperial man sighed with frustration. "That's the most idiotic thing you've said so far. It just doesn't happen."

Karl glanced toward the pair as he dressed. The Argonian was flaring his nostrils and shaking his head. The bony crested fins upon his head twitched. Temel-Za. Karl realised that was his name. He'd heard it before and since forgotten.

"How do you know? It's surely possible." The Argonian objected.

"It's not possible." The Imperial insisted. "There's only ever going to be just the one shaman in any goblin tribe."

Karl figured that the Imperial man must be Artellian, if he was remembering the name correctly. He couldn't recall his first name.

"More than one might be possible."

"It's not. Doesn't happen."

"He's right." Karl interjected. "You're only gonna find one shaman, unless there's a goblin war on. If that happens, you don't wanna be there."

They both glared at him, apparently rather more annoyed with his intrusion than with each other.

"Just sayin'." The Orc shrugged and headed for the staircase.

A quick visit to the bathroom was the first order of business. After that, instead of going directly upstairs to see Guildhead Canne, he decided to stay downstairs to eat first. He'd already given some thought to what he wanted to discuss with Canne. He felt he'd rather be doing it on a full belly.

At the base of the stairs near the rear of the Guildhall, he found Fadus Calidius standing in the middle of the main entryway and staring at him with an expectant expression.

"Thought you wanted to see Guildhead Canne?" The old porter maintained his glare.

Karl ignored the provocation. "Yeah well, thought I'd grab somethin' ta eat first."

Calidius grunted in a disapproving fashion and went on his way. He was actually headed in the same direction that Karl was going. He waited a lengthy moment as the elderly man shuffled into that room.

Karl wasn't sure which kind of Guild Porter he found he found more annoying. The crusty old type of retired fighter like Calidius, or that young idiot Dale, his own overly zealous and tight-arsed porter back in Chorrol. He supposed that Calidius had at least earned the right to his abrasive attitude. That wasn't so much the case with Dale. Though to be fair, Dale was more annoyingly polite than abrasive. That still rubbed Karl the wrong way, often enough.

From the doorway, Karl could see that young Khajiit washing dishes in the basin. He casually wondered if the cat was leaving his fur behind on whatever he was cleaning.

"Ain't got all day." Calidius had passed through the doorway at the back of that room and was heading down to the basement level, where the training area was located.

"This one will be there very shortly." Ras'Dar hurried to finish his task.

Karl lingered in the doorway briefly, hoping to avoid conversation with the Khajiit. Just then, the front doors to the Guildhall opened. An Imperial man and woman entered.

He recognised the man immediately. Forester was in his forties with a head of shortly cropped dark hair, marred by the intrusion of gray flecks. His neatly sculpted goatee beard was the most distinctive feature of his appearance. Of course, his mithril armour also stood out.

"Karl. Karl gro-Baroth." Forester seemed surprised to see the Orc.

"Forester, isn't it?" Karl responded. He'd last seen him about seven months back in Chorrol. Of course, he'd also heard more about him from Monika and Alex after what happened just recently in Sentinel.

"Well, yes. Forester. Malcolm Forester." He still sounded surprised. "Are you here in Skingrad as the new Guild Master?"

"Acting Guild Master." Karl corrected.

Forester cleared his throat. "Yes, of course."

Karl didn't recognise the woman in the customised steel armour. She looked to be maybe about thirty with dark medium length hair and blue eyes. His expression indicated he was struggling to place her face or name.

Forester responded accordingly. "Oh, of course. Forgive me. This is Maplewood. Rena Maplewood. Formerly out of Kvatch."

Of course, Karl knew all about her from the Sentinel reports and the recent correspondence from Guildhead Canne. He just didn't have a face to put to the name.

"Karl gro-Baroth. Acting head of Chorrol." He introduced himself.

Maplewood responded pleasantly. "Yeah, pleasure. I've seen you before, back in Kvatch, but we've never actually met."

"Yeah, don't get over to Kvatch that often. How's Skingrad workin' out for ya?"

"Good. It's working out well."

"Good to hear. You two been out on a job?" Karl noticed that they were both armed and armoured.

Forester cleared his throat again. "Well, no. I have a house over in the Chapel District. We've… we've just come from there."

Karl rubbed the stubble on his chin as he looked at Forester's fastidiously trimmed beard. He gained the impression that they might both be living in Forester's home, but passed no comment. It was none of his business.

Forester made another noise with his throat. "Yes, well. We were just going upstairs to see Guildhead Canne."

"Don't let me hold ya up." Karl stepped into the room to find something simple to eat.

The other two continued on their way.

* * *

><p>Karl gro-Baroth took his time with a spiced breadroll and a light cider. He wasn't in that much of a hurry. Forester and Maplewood still hadn't come back from upstairs.<p>

Artellian and Temel-Za had passed through on their way to the training area in the basement. They were still going on about fighting goblins. Karl did his best to ignore them. He was perfectly happy that they chose to do the same.

After lingering to clean up after himself, the big Orc made his way for the stairs to head on up see Guildhead Canne.

Just short of the top level, he passed those other two coming back down from seeing Canne in her office. Their expressions seemed to indicate some measure of dissatisfaction over the outcome of their meeting. He hoped they hadn't put Canne in a sour mood.

The Skingrad Guildhead's office was located up on the third level of the building. Canne and her second both had private quarters on the right hand side on the waiting area. The Guildhead's office was toward the far end on the left.

The middle aged Breton woman sat at her large desk going over paperwork. Unlike Karl, she kept the desk facing side-on to the entrance of her enclosed office. She turned her head and looked up at his approach. "Karl. Fadus told me you were here. Come on in. Take a seat." She seemed to be in a fair mood from her tone.

Adrienne Canne had been head of that Guildhall since around the same time that Karl took up the position of second at Chorrol. He suspected that the Breton woman was just a couple of years younger than he was, but there was still no gray in her tied back auburn locks.

Karl settled into the seat across from Canne. "Long time, no see." He offered a friendly grin.

"It's been a little while." Her expression reflected a casual curiosity. "Is this about the goblins or are you here as Guild Master."

"Acting Guild Master." He quickly clarified. "Hang on. What goblins? I heard two of yer people goin' on about goblins. I thought it was just idle talk."

Canne released a little sigh. "We received word of a tribe of goblins moving into the area. They came from your general direction, headed out of The Great Forest not far from Brindle Home. My guess is they were headed for the caves north of Skingrad."

Karl's brow furrowed as he absorbed the details. "When did this happen?"

Adrienne gestured vaguely with her hand. "Just last week."

Karl grunted. "Y'know, some of my people come across a big tribe last winter. That was right in the middle of The Great Forest. Around some old Ayleid ruins."

"Which ruins?"

"Woulda been Lindai, I reckon."

"Lindai? That's leagues from here, isn't it?"

Karl scratched an itch on his pointed ear. "Yeah. About half way between The Black Road and The Orange Road. Middle of nowhere."

She narrowed her eyes. "How big a tribe?"

"Huge. Way too many for just those four to deal with. Since the goblins ain't been spreadin' out too much, I told 'em to leave it alone." He rubbed the stubble on his chin. "We've had just a coupla gobs now and then roamin' near farmlands that needed dealin' with, but nothin' too big."

"Well, there was only about ten or so in the group that were reported." She paused on that point. "Still, I'm guessing that they might've come from that larger group that you're talking about."

"Yeah, maybe." Karl grimaced. "You planning somethin'?"

Adrienne nodded curtly. "I have my second scouting the area. She's the best one I have for that kind of thing. Once Elynwen gets back, I'll make a decision."

He didn't know her Bosmer second that well, but he didn't doubt her word. Wood Elves did tend to make excellent scouts.

That fresh information did provoke a thought in Karl's mind. "Might need ta think about tackling that lot in The Great Forest sometime soon. Before there's way too many." He paused on that comment. "Probably gonna need a big bunch of Fighters when it comes time."

Canne met his gaze. "Well, you can count on Skingrad, when the time comes."

Karl nodded his assent. "Might need ta talk with Bruma, as well. Since the forest borders on their territories as well." He seemed to chew on that for a long moment.

Adrienne took advantage of the lengthy pause to shift the topic. "So then, have you given consideration to the position of Guild Master? Are you going to step up?"

Karl winced slightly. "Yeah, dunno about that. I mean, I ain't decided to step up, but I've been givin' the whole thing plenty of consideration."

"Have you spoken with Etrius Quaspas?"

"From Leyawiin?" Karl seemed surprised by the mention of Quaspas. "Just the usual back and forth stuff. Why d'ya ask?"

Adrienne shifted slightly in her seat. "Well, I think he might be making a play for the position of Guild Master."

Karl furrowed his bushy brow. "Ain't said nothin' to me."

Canne looked uncomfortable. "I've heard… well, I've heard some… unconfirmed rumours."

"What kinda rumours?" His brow furrowed even further.

"Unconfirmed ones." She paused to collect a thought. "I heard that Leyawiin's representative in The Elder Council was pushing for Quaspas to take over the Guild."

"Yeah? Little snake. If he wanted the job, then he shoulda just spoke up. Goin' through the council don't sit right."

Canne waved her hand. "I wouldn't worry too much."

"Ain't worried. Just expectin' him to be up front about it."

"From what I heard, the other representatives of the council prefer to defer to the Fighters Guild to sought it all out. As I understand it, they view it as an internal matter and don't want to be seen as interfering."

He chuckled dryly. "He-heh, times change. Eh? Didn't stop 'em last time."

"I think the Interregnum qualifies as special circumstances."

"S'pose."

"Well, if you're hesitant to take the position, then what are you planning to do?"

"That's why I'm here. Figured I oughta be talking with some of the other senior Guildheads. Like yerself." His expression conveyed even more than the words.

Canne understood the implication. "I'm flattered, but I'm not sure that I would really want the job either." She brushed an errant strand of hair as she hesitated. "I… I have a strong attachment to remaining in Skingrad and I have quite a good working relationship with the Count's stewards. Built up over a long time. I rather think that this is the best place for me. The best use of my skills and experience."

Karl had been hoping for a rather different kind of conversation, but he wasn't totally surprised by anything he was hearing.

Adrienne waved her hands absently. "Look, Karl. I'm happy to offer my opinion of anyone else you might be considering, but I don't really want to put my hand up for the job."

Karl did his best to mask his disappointment. "I get that, believe me."

"I'm sure you do." She sighed. "I take it that you've been considering others?"

"Yeah, been looking into it." He paused with a sigh.

She took his pause as an invitation. "Well, there is Quaspas." His silence encouraged her to continue. "From what I know, I expect that he's perfectly competent. Leyawiin's Guildhall has run quite well under his leadership. Though… I do suspect that he might be just a little fond of the way that Lusius conducted himself during his tenure. He's certainly no Modryn Oreyn."

Karl rubbed his bristly chin. "No, he ain't." He paused before continuing. "Yeah well, I ain't ruling him out, but I ain't that sure of him either."

They went on to discuss various other Guildheads. Canne's opinions generally seemed a reflection of what Karl already thought. That only served to bolster his feeling that she would be a good choice for the position, if she actually wanted it.

Canne's opinion of Bruma's Guillard differed only slightly from Karl's. She thought that he certainly held the temperament for the position. She also commented that he didn't seem motivated by racial preference, like some others. Drals Vedran of Cheydinhal was an example of that. Still, she conceded that Guillard could have benefited from a little more leadership experience. She suggested that he might be the best person for the job, the next time it comes up.

After all, except when one of the longer-lived Mer took the position of Guild Master, a head of the Guild might typically last no more than a decade or so. It was more common that a Fighter might only achieve that position later in life. Of course, there'd been a few exceptions to that from time to time. Lusius had been one of them.

Karl had gone on to explain that he was going to make brief visits to the Guildhalls of Kvatch, Anvil and Rihad to speak with each of their Guildheads. He wasn't really expecting any great surprises, but he wanted to speak with each of them in turn.

Adrienne was interested to hear of Karl's intent to visit Sentinel and apply some pressure to get a Guildhall up and running in that city. Of course, she'd heard of what recently transpired in Sentinel from Forester and Maplewood. She was still lamenting the loss of Taimar from her Guildhall. However, she conceded that the gaining of Maplewood went some way to easing that loss.

Canne was even more intrigued to learn of his plan to visit Wayrest while he was on Iliac Bay. She agreed that it might be quite an achievement if he managed to persuade Wickfield of the benefits of rejoining the Imperial funded coalition of Fighters Guild Guildhalls. It would be even more impressive if those other far-flung Guildhalls followed that lead.

Karl hadn't mentioned that the idea had come mostly from Monika Northwind. He was aware of their mutual dislike and he expected that circumstance might have coloured her opinion of the venture.

After a pause in the discussion, Canne felt moved to address a particular point. "Karl, I should think I'd be remiss if I didn't mention it." She paused briefly to be sure she held his full attention. "You've been running Chorrol for more than a decade now. In my opinion, no one knows the job better than you do."

"Yeah, maybe." He sighed. "Just ain't sure somebody else might not be better. Might only have another good ten years left in me."

"That's long enough."

"Yeah maybe. We'll see."

With little else left to discuss, they soon exchanged brief farewells and parted company.

* * *

><p>Leaving Canne's office behind, Karl made his way back downstairs. He'd done what he'd meant to do in Skingrad. The next thing on the agenda was looking into getting over to Kvatch. He wasn't entirely sure of exactly how that was going to happen. He figured he'd start by looking into the movement of outbound trade wagons, before deciding upon anything else.<p>

He wasn't interested in becoming tangled in any conversations with the other members of the Guildhall. He proceeded directly down to the main entryway of the place and then out onto the streets of Skingrad.

He paused just a moment outside the Guildhall. He glanced to his left, observing the sporadic flow of people up and down The High Street. It seemed somewhat busy about the stores of Hightown. It was probably fairly normal for that time of the morning.

A taste of summer was in the air. It felt like a warm day in the making. It was eased only somewhat by the light breeze and the patchy cloud cover drifting across the blue sky.

Karl spotted an old Argonian mage standing by the front of the College of Whispers, situated just up from the Fighters Guild. The old lizard seemed to be looking directly at him, but Karl didn't know him at all.

The big Orc turned and headed off downhill for downtown. He passed the old West Weald Inn and followed the street until reaching The Low Street. He turned left and made his way for the office of the Imperial Trading Company.

Karl spoke with the burly Colovian man that managed the place. A heavy set man by the name of Dannus. He thought that Dannus held more than a passing resemblance to the man that ran The Oak and Crosier, back in Chorrol, Thomas somebody.

He was hoping to find passage with the next wagon going west. However, he quickly learned that all the scheduled trade shipments had already been and gone for the week. There were no more headed westward until Morndas.

Of course, Karl couldn't hang about for three days. He wasn't interested in getting a hold of a horse, since he'd only have to ditch it before getting on a ship out of Anvil. Instead, he resolved to head out on foot the next morning. He figured that he could really use the exercise anyway. By his reckoning, even on foot, if he set off early enough and maintained a good brisk pace, he should make it make it to Kvatch by not too long past sunset. Especially with the longer days of that time of year.

Reluctant to head back to the Guildhall, Karl wasted some time just walking about town. He browsed the open market stalls of The Low Street and picked up some light rations for the road. A few strips of dried meats suited him just fine. At least, that was the case until he spotted the fresh blackberries and strawberries for sale. He'd always had a sweet tooth for that sort of thing. Those berries hadn't even come into season around the farms of Chorrol just yet that year. He expected that the growing season was a bit longer about Skingrad.

He nibbled at the berries as he wandered over through the Chapel District of the city, planning to take the longer route back, via the upper end of Hightown. If it wasn't for the breeze gently whistling through the streets of Skingrad, it might have been a bit uncomfortably warm.

Karl's mind returned toward the issue of the goblins in The Great Forest. He was mildly concerned over that smaller tribe emerging from the forest. He was more concerned over what might come about over the coming months, especially during the next winter, when food might become more scarce.

There'd been a few minor incidents coming out of the tail end of last winter. Twice at the Weynon Priory settlement. Upon each occasion, only two or three gobs. It was only once at Odiil Farms, but there were about six that time and three of them were those big and nasty types. A couple of goblins were also found at the Fort Ash settlement a month back. Those ones were put down by the Legion soldiers stationed there.

His concern turned toward that group that had been spotted around the ruins of Lindai. According to Montrose and Northwind, there were less than thirty that they could see on the day they were out there, but they suspected that there might be more inside the ruins.

With that group that Canne heard of coming out the forest, he suspected that there might be a resurgence of goblin population in The Great Forest. He supposed it was quite possible that there were multiple groups in the forest.

He started thinking that a large coordinated culling might be in order. Best that it happened before the winter really set in and before the gobs started attacking local farms and wagons on the roads.

He figured that between the Fighters Guild of Chorrol, Skingrad and Bruma, they could muster enough manpower to put a serious dent in the goblin population. Still, something that big that might well need Imperial approval for funding. Maybe the Legion should even get involved. Further thought and planning would need to be examined before any of that.

Karl decided that it was something to pursue, once he'd finished with what he already had on his plate and the matter of the new Guild Master had been settled.

After wandering about the city for a while longer, Karl eventually returned to the Guildhall. He was planning to take an early meal downstairs, then try for an early night and a very early rise. Accordingly, he when he retired to the common area on the second level, he tried to secure a bunk located at the far opposite end from that noisy pair of goblin experts. The last thing that he needed was to have those two idiots keeping him awake half the night.

~O~


	4. Chapter 4

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 4

Fredas the 4th of Midyear 4E49

Karl gro-Baroth was up and leaving the Guildhall well before the sunrise. Wasting no time, he was passing through the main gates of Skingrad before the dawn had even broken over the eastern mountains. The muted glow of the coming dawn at his back as he started his westward march along The Gold Road.

There had been almost nobody about at that early hour aside from the guards still posted to night duties. He passed by the unattended stabling facilities, then followed the road along past the famed Surilie Brothers Vineyards and Tamika Vineyards. Once he'd passed the last of those smaller farms to the west of Skingrad, there was nothing but open countryside ahead of him.

He'd not seen anyone since leaving the city gates behind, until he came across a lone Legion rider returning from night patrol. That was about a league out from the city.

As they drew near, the soldier seemed to treat him with some measure of cautious suspicion. That didn't especially bother him. After all, an armoured Orc with a large battleaxe across his back coming along an empty road might well be cause for caution in certain circumstances. Of course, the Legion rider's attitude altered completely once he learned that Karl was Fighters Guild. He'd wanted to stop and chat for a while, but Karl cut that short. He was determined to make Kvatch as early as possible.

Out on the open road of County Skingrad, Karl's mind again drifted back to his childhood days. He'd been thinking about that the other day in the back in the wagon.

He still held some fond but faded memories of his childhood in Orcrest. He recalled running through the narrow streets and alleyways of inner Orcrest and playing with the other children that lived there. Most were Orcish or Khajiiti, but there were also a couple of Imperial boys that lived there at the time.

From that time, he vaguely remembered a young Khajiit girl with dark striped markings in her fur. She was probably a Cathay. He couldn't recall her proper name, but he thought that he used to call her 'Nissi' or something like that. He also remembered that she used to run with a small cat that she referred to as her little brother. Back then, Karl didn't understand how the Khajiit each appeared physically different according to the phases of the moons at the time of their birth. Her brother was probably born as Alfiq, meaning he would always look just like a domesticated cat. Though he couldn't actually speak, he would have been able to think and reason just as any other Khajiit.

Karl also recalled running about in the outer part of Orcrest, over on the northern side of the city. That was where the trading caravans visited and where the main marketplace was located. That was where he first saw one of those elephants that some of the traders used.

It was also in that marketplace that he first saw those paintings of Rimmen, as well as some paintings of other far off places. There were also many of those tapestries that Khajiit artisans were famous for. Many were colourful patterns and designs. Just a few were woven into works of art that depicted one thing or another.

Aside from the markets, there were two other prominent features of the outer section of the city of Orcrest. One of those features was the ramshackle arena where Orcish warriors faced off against one another or against captured beasts of the wild.

Karl wasn't permitted close to that place at his young age. It wasn't so much that young Orcs weren't allowed to see such things. It was more the case that they might be too easily injured, even as spectators.

The other prominent feature of the outer section was the oasis pools. Most of the city water supply came from the deep wells, but when the rains had filled those pools, they became popular swimming spots, especially for the children of that arid city.

As he understood it, it would have been only a year or so before the Oblivion Crisis when Karl Fairbeard and Baroth gro-Uzgark relocated to Orcrest from Rimmen. His father would have met his mother not long after that.

During the last year of the third era, 3E433, Alba gra-Aglash had still been a full-time soldier in the City Guard of Orcrest. Karl knew that they'd all fought together, along with many others, to defend that city from the Oblivion Gate that opened up not far from the city walls.

Karl had trouble remembering exactly what Fairbeard had told him, but he was reasonably sure that Baroth and Alba had only become husband and wife just before the Oblivion Crisis had broken out. During the first year of the fourth era, Karl was born.

As he'd learned later, his father had been off on a caravan escort job at the time that he was born. Apparently, Karl Fairbeard had just returned from a similar task to learn that Alba was about to give birth. He had remained with her to assist with the difficult birth, helping her to bring her son into the world.

Before that time, it was more likely that Karl would have been called something else more Orcish. However, Fairbeard's timely assistance had changed all that. Both his parents had agreed, and even insisted, that he should bear the name of the man that helped bring him safely into the world.

He thought about his mother. Her face seemed somewhat more clear in his memory than that of his father. Of course, it was the first face that he saw each morning during his younger years and the last face that he saw each evening. That was not often the case with his father.

Though she seemed huge by his childhood recollections, Alba hadn't been quite so large by Orcish standards. She was probably slightly shorter than some Orcs and her frame was rather lean. That was reflected in her face. He supposed that it might just be the colouring of his childhood recollections, but his mother's face seemed more kindly and less harsh than other Orcish females.

His mother had been born and raised in Orcrest, but she still knew enough of how other Orcs lived in other lands. Some of the locals had come from those places, or at least their forebears had.

When Karl was still very young, she had explained what she knew of the Orcs of Orsinium and other parts of High Rock. She also explained how those Orcs of the northwestern province thought of all others as 'city-Orcs', even those of Orcrest.

Alba held to a different sort of mentality. She always thought that Orcrest was the closest thing to what the city of Orsinium was meant to be. Granted, the Orcs lived under a Khajiit ruler, but they were perfectly free to live as Orcs should. Older traditions were respected, but newer traditions were treated with equal measure. She viewed it as more forward thinking.

As Karl understood it, some of the Orcs of Orcrest still worshipped Malacath. There was a desert shrine located not that far from the city. The god of the Orcs was worshipped as both Malacath and as Trinimac, according to the sensibilities of the individual. That was something that came from the new Orsinium established under the rule of Gortwog gro-Nagorm.

In either case, that was still frowned upon by the Empire. Any sort of Daedra worship was viewed as an affront to the Nine Divines within the Empire. Regardless of how it might be framed, Malacath was still a Daedric Prince.

However, the Khajiit were far more tolerant of such things. After all, they also had their own gods. Some of them were considered to be the same entities that the Empire recognised as the Nine Divines. Some of them were recognised by the Imperials as Daedra. In any event, the Khajiit held no interest in keeping others from their respective gods. That was not the Khajiiti way.

Karl's mother had often told him that he should not limit his expectations of what it meant to be a proper Orc. She insisted that were many ways to achieve fulfilment as a true Orc.

She granted that some might be best suited to the life of a warrior, in one fashion or another, but not every battle was fought by combat.

She told him that even the Orcish smith that never fought with the weapons that he fashioned could still be a true Orc. The challenge of fashioning the weapons and armour for those that lacked the proper skill was no less important than the act of wielding them.

Even the priests that guided worshippers could be true Orcs. Their battles were for the faith and souls of their people. That required a different kind of strength, one no less important than the strength to wield a warhammer.

Karl had held onto his mother's words over the years. It made even more sense to him once he'd found himself relegated to managing the business of the Chorrol Guildhall from behind that desk. Aside from training, he'd seen very little battle over the past decade. Most of his battles had been a different kind of challenge. It had fallen to him to provide leadership and organisational management of Guild operations. He supposed that he had actually proved himself perfectly capable in that role. He also supposed that though some of his kind might sneer and call him a 'city-Orc', his mother would probably have been proud.

Karl's attention was drawn toward the road ahead. A farmer's wagon was pulled up on the road and an Imperial rider was off his horse just nearby. As he drew a little closer, he could see that the soldier was examining something at the side of the road. The two men by the wagon and the soldier seemed alarmed at Karl's approach.

He called out to them. "Karl gro-Baroth. Fighters Guild."

The Legion soldier kept his weapon at the ready and fixed a wary eye in Karl's direction. "Fighters Guild, you say?"

"Yeah, outa Chorrol. What's up?"

"A bandit." One of the farmers blurted.

Karl noticed what the soldier had been examining. There was a bloody body in the grass by the side of the road. The spattering of blood upon the Legionnaire's armour told the broad detail of the rest of the story.

The soldier told his story anyway. "This bandit tried to take these farmers. He probably didn't know that the wagon was empty and he didn't see me coming along behind them."

Karl chortled. "Heh, yeah. Well, if bandits were much smarter, then they'd be a whole lot more trouble. Good thing they ain't."

"Agreed." The soldier responded evenly.

"Hey, I heard there ain't been bandits along this stretch since last winter. Anything the Guild needs ta know about that?"

The Legionnaire shook his head slightly. "Only the occasional fool, like this one. Nothing in the way of any organised gang activity or the like." He glanced westward. "I've heard there might be some troublemakers over toward the hills south of Kvatch, but that's not my problem. Just the County Skingrad section."

Karl nodded his understanding. "Yeah, well. I'm headed for Kvatch right now. So, I'll keep an eye out. Might even get lucky an' get a chance to deal with some idiot outlaw that thinks I'm an ordinary traveller." He grinned.

"Perhaps." The soldier acknowledged.

Karl glanced to the farmer's wagon, then back to the soldier. "Well, looks ta me like ya got the matter in hand. I gotta try an' get to Kvatch 'fore it gets too late."

The Legionnaire returned a silent nod and Karl continued on his way along The Gold Road. A passing thought occurred to him. He wondered what it meant when he found himself actually looking forward to finding a bandit along the road. He shrugged it off.

Just a short while later, Karl caught sight of the road signs up ahead. He could also see the stones of an old Ayleid ruin to the north of the road. That would have been the old Miscarand ruins. As he understood it, those road signs stood at the border of Counties Skingrad and Kvatch. That meant that he was about half way there. Given that the sun was near enough to its apex above, it also meant that he was making good time. He remained confident of reaching his destination according to his expectations.

* * *

><p>"Looks to me like you've got it." Monika Northwind grinned. She relaxed her stance and lowered her shield.<p>

"Yes, I think so." Alex Pinewatch returned her grin.

At the outside training area around the back of the Chorrol Guildhall, Monika had been furthering Alex's training in the use of the shield and mace combination. Unlike Monika, he preferred using his elven blade in close combat. Both of them were far more proficient with the bow. Nevertheless, he was still required to master blunt weapons as part of his ongoing Fighters Guild training.

Monika glanced up at the sun, gauging the time. It looked to be just past midday. "We might take a break."

"Yes, okay." Alex agreed easily. "What about Vinus?"

Monika looked to young Vinus Odiil. She had him practising archery. "Hey, Vinus. Keep training. Give it another hour and then you can take a break."

Vinus returned a silent nod and kept to the task at hand.

Though Alex was much older than Vinus, he'd not been with the Fighters Guild for all that much longer, only about a year. They'd both been raised on farms, only Alex had done it for much longer. Vinus had come from just down the road from Chorrol. Alex was from Falkreath, over the mountains to the north.

Although Alex was a good two decades younger than Monika, they both looked near enough to the same age. Of course, that was due to Monika's mixed heritage. Alex hardly seemed remarkable in his appearance. His frame was rather slight for a Nord. His plain brown hair and eyes did little to alter his generally average looking appearance.

Aside from the circumstances of their meeting, it would be fair to say that it was more of his nature and general demeanour that drew Monika to him. Alex's upbringing had instilled him with an uncommon measure of honesty and loyalty. His tendency to lean toward the most honourable behaviour also seemed rather uncommon. At least, it seemed uncommon from Monika's recent experience.

Those two had been lovers since just a few weeks after they'd met. More than once, Alex had sought something more official. It was only Monika's reticence that held back that circumstance. Though they pretty much lived as though they were married, Monika remained reluctant to take that next step. After recently learning something of her previously failed marriage, Alex gained a better understanding of her reluctance. He had more or less accepted the current circumstance, at least for the time being.

Monika and Alex had just returned from training out the back as the front doors to the Chorrol Guildhall opened. An Imperial man stepped inside, wearing a mixed set of armour comprised of steel and chainmail. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. Even from a passing glance, his appearance seemed more Nibenese than Colovian.

Dale Gavinus, the Guild Porter, moved briskly down the stairs to intercept the visitor to the Guildhall. Dale was a younger man of typical Colovian appearance. He wore his immaculately polished steel armour as a proud mark of his position.

"Welcome to the Guildhall." The porter spoke in an overly official manner, "Please state your business."

The stranger looked past Dale, briefly glancing toward Alex and Monika, then returning his attention to the porter. "Guild Porter… I'm here to see the acting Guildhead."

Dale maintained his posture. "I am afraid that Karl gro-Baroth is not here at this time."

A brief flash of annoyance crossed the stranger's face. "Where is he, then?"

"The acting Guildhead is presently visiting another Guildhall."

The visitor frowned. "Who's in charge, right now?"

"The acting second is attending the office at present."

"Who's that, then?"

"Francois Montrose is currently in charge of the Guildhall."

The older man shook his head. "Well, tell the second that Etrius Quaspas is here from Leyawiin."

Dale returned a curt nod of assent and headed directly up the stairs. Quaspas remained at the base of the stairs with a look of only barely contained impatience.

Monika and Alex had quietly sat down at the table by the rear doors and casually observed the exchange from there. The visitor seemed to ignore them.

"Who is he?" Alex whispered quietly. He'd never seen the man before.

Monika hesitated briefly. She kept her voice just as low. "Quaspas. He's in charge of the Leyawiin Guildhall."

"Leyawiin?" Alex had never been quite that far south.

"Yeah." Monika responded only distractedly. She was trying to keep an eye upon Quaspas, without really looking like she was doing it.

"Why would he be here?" Alex whispered.

Monika's sharp glance indicated that she wanted him to be quiet.

Dale was just returning from upstairs. The young porter invited the visiting Guildhead to follow him up to the main office on the upper level.

Once those two had disappeared out of view, Alex spoke again. "Do you think it is about Karl taking so long…"

"Shhh." Monika cut him off. "Come on."

Monika got up and headed for the stairs. Alex followed. She peered up the staircase toward the upper levels. After a few moments, the porter came back down.

"Dale." Monika spoke with a harsh whisper.

The Guild Porter returned a questioning gaze.

"Quietly." Monika insisted. "What's going on, up there?"

The porter kept his voice low. "Guildhead Quaspas is meeting with Montrose." His tone indicated that he thought it was perfectly self-evident.

"You should get back up there." Monika suggested.

Dale blinked. "I was asked to leave."

"Then get back within earshot."

The Guild Porter's expression indicated his distaste at the suggestion.

Monika persisted. "Look, I want to know if he's giving Montrose any trouble."

Dale's expression indicated further resistance.

Monika huffed. "Just do it. Karl told me to keep an eye out for trouble."

The younger Imperial relented in silence. He turned and moved quietly back up the stairs and out of view. Monika and Alex shifted away from the staircase. Though she wanted to know what was going on, she didn't want to be obvious about it.

After a good quarter of an hour, Quaspas returned from upstairs and then departed the Guildhall directly without pause.

Dale came back down just a few moments later. Monika immediately pressed him for details. Aside from confirming that he thought Quaspas had been belligerent with Montrose, and that he heard Karl's name mentioned loudly more than once, he couldn't say for certain what had been discussed with any certainty.

With an obvious sense of frustration and concern, Monika left Dale behind to head on upstairs to see Montrose. Alex followed closely behind.

As expected, Montrose seemed suitably agitated. At first, he was reluctant to discuss the meeting with Quaspas. However, Monika could be rather persuasive. He confirmed the expectation that Quaspas was annoyed that Karl was away, also confirming that he wanted to talk about resolving the matter of the head of the Guild. He hadn't been at all happy about having to deal with Montrose.

Though Quaspas hadn't said it outright, Montrose gained the impression that he was looking to make a move for the vacant position. He'd also mentioned his intent to seek an audience with the Countess.

Monika wondered if Countess Alessia would even speak with him. Quaspas' father had served the ruling family of Leyawiin during the years of the rebellion. By extension, that meant that he was probably in favour with the Caro's.

The bad blood between the Valga and Caro families remained a matter of common knowledge. Alessia Valga had been the younger wife of the aging Count Caro of Leyawiin until shortly after that County rebelled from Imperial rule. In the wake of the ensuing friction between Countess Arriana and the Count of Leyawiin, Alessia had left her husband to return to her mother in Chorrol. In due course, she replaced her mother as the Countess of Chorrol.

Still, regardless of her personal history, the Countess was more likely to keep out of the internal politics of the Guild, than otherwise.

As Monika suggested, things might have been far simpler if Karl had just stepped up into the role of Guild Master. She doubted that anyone would have objected and she would have far preferred him as the new boss to anyone else. Both Alex and Montrose agreed easily enough.

* * *

><p>A few hours had passed since Karl gro-Baroth left that farmer's wagon back in County Skingrad. He hadn't seen anyone else along the road since then. That wasn't really all that unusual on some days. Still, he expected that he'd probably come across another Legion rider sooner or later, provided that the timing of his journey coincided with a patrol.<p>

The day had seemed just a little uncomfortably warm since before noon. Perhaps more so in that old iron armour that he wore. Until a light breeze came up, there seemed to be a notable feeling of steaminess on the air. There was just a bit of light cloud in the north and some more toward the south-east, but none of it actually looked like rain.

The city of Kvatch had come into view in the distance some time back. The dark stone walls of the city rose up from the tall plateau. Kvatch was situated atop what was either a tall hilltop or a low mountain, depending on who it was you were talking to. Some called it Mount Kvatch and some argued it wasn't high enough to be a mountain. He thought there was also some another name for it, but he couldn't remember. Either way, everything up on that plateau was still Kvatch.

Even though he could see the city, he knew that it was a bit further away than it actually looked. He knew that The Gold Road swung around to the south for a fair way, circling about until it connected to the winding road that made the final ascent up to the city.

Along The Gold Road, the only other thing of interest that he'd seen had been just past the turn off to the Shetcombe farming settlement. The crows caught his attention first. They flew off at his approach. He soon spotted a dead rabbit lying upon the road beside the carcass of a half-eaten wolf. He figured that the wolf might have killed the rabbit, but there was no obvious sign of what had killed the wolf. Whatever had made the kill, it looked to have eaten just the soft parts and left the rest behind. He supposed that it might have been a mountain lion. After all, they were more common in the west of Colovia and along the Gold Coast.

Some time after that, Karl's mind again drifted back to his early years. It was during the eighth year of the new era that his life changed completely. He would have been just seven years old at that time.

He hadn't realised the significance of the first thing when it occurred. His father was always going off on jobs that kept him away. Sometimes, for a few weeks at a time. That time, his father had gone off to the far north. Apparently, he was headed for Orsinium, for reasons that Karl never fully learned of. Back then, he held no real idea of exactly how far away that city was, only that his father was going to be away for several weeks.

Though Fairbeard's work still took him away for a few days at a time, he'd remained near to Orcrest, often visiting him and his mother when Baroth was away.

By then, his mother had returned to working for the City Guard of Orcrest. Still, she generally only worked the daylight shifts on those days that she was rostered for duty. Meaning that Karl still saw her at the beginning and end of each day, whether she was working or not.

It was a bit later in the year that Karl's life shifted more dramatically. His father had already been gone for a while, maybe about two months. At that time, His mother had fallen ill with a sickness that caused a terrible fever. Though Karl knew nothing of it at the time, a number of Orcs throughout the city had fallen ill with that same sickness. Apparently, only the Orcs of Orcrest had been affected. The Khajiit and other races of the city had not been affected at all.

Fairbeard had returned from a trader's escort job to find young Karl tending to his ill mother. Of course, aside from bringing her water and damp cloth, there was little that he could do for her.

Fairbeard had taken charge of the situation. He carried Alba off to see the local healer and seek treatment. Evidently, she wasn't their first patient, but the illness still had the healers baffled. They'd administered potions and other treatments to the ill, but many patients responded only somewhat better under the healer's care than without it. It seemed that those sick Orcs that survived the illness and emerged from the fever did so more out of good fortune than the skill of the healers. Karl's mother had been one of those less fortunate.

Karl had never fallen ill with whatever taken his mother. Of course being a Nord, Fairbeard had not been affected either. Whatever the cause of the Orc fever, it was over in just a few short weeks and seemed to have passed as quickly as it appeared.

Still, young Karl had found himself without either parent. He'd overheard some talk of other Orcs offering to take him in until his father returned, but Fairbeard wouldn't hear of it. He'd told them that he was the closest friend of both Alba and Baroth. They'd even named their son with his name. He insisted that he would watch over him for as long he needed to, as if he were his own flesh and blood.

Apparently, there'd been some objection to a Nord taking charge of a young Orc, but it must have been sorted, since Fairbeard soon moved into his parent's small house.

Fairbeard tried to take only jobs that didn't take him away from the city or least those that took him away for no more than two days at a time.

Karl and his Nord guardian had waited and waited for the return of Baroth. The weeks soon became months and then more months passed by. Before long, a whole year had passed by and there was still sign of the return of his father.

Things had been changing in Elsweyr around that time. By then, following the lead of Argonia, Elsweyr had already seceded from the Empire. It hadn't happened all at once. It was a gradual process as the various Kingdoms and regions broke off from Imperial control, returning to something that more resembled an earlier state of affairs, one where each part of the land reclaimed local independence. At that time, there wasn't even a Mane to influence the cultural landscape of Elsweyr.

Karl knew that the previous Mane had been assassinated the same year he had been born. Elsweyr had been without a cultural leader until just quite recently. He suspected that the new Mane had lived in secretive seclusion until he was ready to emerge; now residing in the city of Dune. Even so, the Mane rarely acted as an actual political ruler, but the Mane was respected by all Khajiit as the cultural leader of all their lands.

However, back when Karl was still living in Orcrest with Fairbeard, without a living Mane, the only thing that maintained the relative peace throughout Elsweyr was the ongoing need for trade. Even then, that peace was relatively tenuous.

Even though the various regions of Elsweyr had broken away from the Imperial Empire, there were no active hostilities. Potentate Ocato was already having enough trouble with the rebellions of Counties Bravil and Leyawiin in the south of Cyrodiil. Still, that left Elsweyr to its own state of disorder and internal turmoil. Without the Imperial Legion trying to maintain order and no living Mane, things were even more uncertain than ever.

As he understood it, outside of Rimmen, where things remained relatively stable, only Orcrest remained fairly unaffected by the shifting sands of political change. That was mostly due to its important location along the trade routes. Also, the large Orcish population had served to actually bolster the stability of that city.

Still, despite the distinct advantage of having an army of Orcs at his potential disposal, the Khajiiti ruler of Orcrest had grown nervous of having so many non-Khajiit in his city. Fairbeard had thought it foolish, but he'd heard the rumours that there might be a call to have the Orcs leave the city. He suspected that it might have something to do with the Renrijra Krin. They were a group of radical Khajiit that believed that Elsweyr should belong only to the Khajiit and were also dedicated to the return of the lands in the southern Niben that were ceded to Imperial Cyrodill during earlier times. Some of the bandits that Fairbeard had fought off around Rimmen had probably been Renrijra Krin.

Fairbeard held some reasonable fears for what all of that might mean. Especially since more than half the populace of Orcrest were Orcish and the city might never have even been there if not for them. He anticipated bloodshed if there was any serious move against the Orcs of the city.

By the beginning of the winter of the ninth year of the new era, Fairbeard had come to a decision. After more than a year had passed by since Baroth had departed, he had decided it was reasonable to assume that he was probably not coming back. Though he didn't want to say it, he suspected that his friend had most likely met with untimely demise. Otherwise, he should have returned by then or at least sent some sort of message. He was going to wait until the end of winter and no more.

With the future stability of Orcrest under doubt, Fairbeard planned to take Karl and head north for Cyrodiil in the hope of finding somewhere less dangerous. At least, that was the plan.

* * *

><p>Karl gro-Baroth was suddenly roused from his musings by the sight of a Legion rider coming along the road toward him from up ahead. He suddenly realised that he'd passed most of the day thinking about the past. Though it was not yet quite nightfall, the sun had already fallen below the hill ahead. He was pretty sure that he was coming up on the last hill before the road up to Kvatch. He must have passed by the turn off to the Kvatch Mines without even noticing it.<p>

He identified himself as Fighters Guild, stopping only briefly to speak with the Legion soldier. He mentioned that the road had been clear of trouble all the way to County Skingrad and that he was heading up to Kvatch. Avoiding any lengthy conversation, Karl resumed his march.

He'd been right about his location. The sign that marked the turn off to Kvatch was just up over that next hill. The sun was just falling upon the hazy and distant horizon where the sky touched the Abecean Sea as he turned onto the road to Kvatch.

After one more gently rolling hill, the road started the winding ascent up the hillside to where the city of Kvatch sat perched. A tiring hour passed by before he reached the top of the climb. That last bit was always the most arduous part of travelling to Kvatch, especially so on foot.

At the top of the climb, the buildings outside the tall walls came into view. The main stabling facilities stood in front of the old workshops and warehouse. The local office of the Imperial Trading Company was just across the road next to a large stone manor. After a fashion, each of those structures were a legacy of the rebuilding of Kvatch after the destruction that occurred during the Oblivion Crisis.

Fifty years back, an Oblivion Gate opened up right in front of the main gates of Kvatch and Daedra poured into the city, raining down chaos and destruction. That was one of the few places that the remnants of a broken Oblivion Gate had been completely removed. There was no indication that it had been there.

After speaking with the duty guards, Karl passed through the main gates into the city proper. The main street up the middle of Kvatch was well lit by oil lamps all the way to the castle. Looking ahead, the Chapel of Akatosh dominated the main thoroughfare. Beyond the stores and inns, the shadow of the castle rose up against the moonlit sky.

The Fighters Guild was also located on the main street, just past the guard's barracks on the left. Karl headed directly for the Guildhall and stepped inside.

The place was instantly familiar. It was practically the same layout as the one in Chorrol, with just a few minor differences. Of course, the Kvatch Guildhall was much newer, having only been constructed during the rebuilding of the city that took place in the first decade of the new era.

Inside the Guildhall, all was quiet. It seemed like there was nobody about. A creak from the floorboards preceded the appearance of the old Bosmer that served as the Guild Porter since retiring from more active duties. His name was Brolla.

The old Wood Elf studied him briefly as he approached. "Karl gro-Baroth, welcome to the Kvatch Guildhall."

"Hey, Brolla. Long time, no see." Karl looked down at him. He was just thinking that the aging Bosmer appeared shorter than the last time he saw him. He kept that thought to himself.

"Yes, it's been a while. What brings you here?"

"Here to see Farrell."

"She's not here, right now."

Karl looked about again. "Sounds like nobody's here."

Brolla nodded. "Everyone is out, but me."

Karl returned a questioning glance.

The porter clarified. "Farrell and Merandil are only out at the inn for the evening. The others are out on jobs."

"Fair enough." Karl accepted. "I just wanna use the facilities, then maybe see Farrell in the morning."

The old Bosmer returned a slow nod. "I'm sure that will be possible."

"Yeah well, I know where everything is. No need ta put yerself out on my account."

Brolla responded with a mild grin. "It's good to see you again, Karl."

The Orc flashed his lower canines. "Yeah, likewise."

Karl headed off directly for the bathroom facilities, before looking to find something to eat. He was actually feeling a bit more hungry than expected. He was also feeling rather more tired than he would have anticipated. The long march from Skingrad seemed a bit more wearing than he thought it would be. It seemed as though the years were starting to catch up with him. Either that, or else he just needed more exercise.

Finishing his meal, Karl noted the rough bristles on his stubbled chin. It was just starting to annoy him. He decided upon a quick shave before finding a bunk to settle in for the night. He'd go see Guildhead Farrell the next morning.

~O~


	5. Chapter 5

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 5

Loredas the 5th of Midyear 4E49

The sounds of creaking floorboards and distant voices caused Karl gro-Baroth to stir and roll into a sitting position. He grumbled to himself with annoyance. Once again, he'd gone and slept much later than he intended.

He wasn't sure just how late it was, but he figured it was much later than the time he'd normally be up and about back in Chorrol. Though he might have conceded that the long march from Skingrad had been just a bit tiring, he knew that he wouldn't have thought anything of it when he was younger. Either his body just didn't like him shifting his routine all over the place or else he was just getting old. Whichever the case, he was still annoyed with himself.

Rising from the bunk, he belatedly decided that he should have picked a spot nearer to one of the windows, so that the morning light might have woken him earlier. He quickly dressed in his iron armour, without thinking that his plain leather vest would have sufficed, then dashed off for the bathroom on the lower level of the Kvatch Guildhall.

Karl cringed inwardly as he heard the bells of the temple marking that it had just gone eight. He didn't want to get in the habit of sleeping late like that. To his thinking, he really should have been up and about two hours earlier.

From those sounds that he'd heard from the bunk, he was assuming that Farrel was upstairs in her office. That's what he'd have been doing if he were back in Chorrol. He quickly headed back upstairs to see the Kvatch Guildhead.

Just like the Bosmer Guild Porter, Farrell had been with that Guildhall since the rebuilding of the city. That was back when Merandil was still with the Kvatch Guard.

As Karl started up the stairs to the upper level, he could see that Guildhead Farrel and her second, Merandil, were both standing by the desk in the office. At a glance, that office looked just like Karl's, except the desk was a bit smaller and set further back. The furniture was laid out a bit differently and a second banner hung beside the Fighters Guild symbol. The banner of Kvatch featured a stylised wolf's head.

The slender Altmer second towered over the Bosmer woman by a good two heads height. Still, Merandil was only a bit taller than Karl. They both turned at Karl's approach.

"Karl." Farrel acknowledged. "Brolla mentioned that you came in last night."

"Yeah, last night." Karl was still trying to shake off a mild feeling of grogginess.

Merandil offered a friendly grin. "I see that you're still wearing that old armour."

"It was my bother's." Karl's old iron armour had been repaired and refurbished many times over the years. Only the main iron plates remained from the original armour.

Merandil nodded solemnly. "A fine way to honour the memory of Kurz gro-Baroth."

"Yeah." Karl left it at that. "Is it lookin' a bit shorthanded around here or am I just imaginin' it?"

Farrel titled her head, accepting his point. "I suppose we might be a bit shorthanded, but it hasn't become a problem. Not so far."

"It has been fairly quiet since the winter." Merandil weighed in. "I suppose that there's another reason that it hasn't been a problem."

Farrel elaborated. "A lot our contracts have us accompanying the local Vigilants of Stendarr. Sometimes, we've managed to coordinate our other contracts with their missions."

"Two birds with the one stone." Merandil added, mildly amused at his own comment.

A noise coming from just downstairs on the second level interrupted the flow of conversation. It was only Brolla struggling to open the windows of the common area below.

Merandil resumed. "Rolden and Matius are out with the Vigilants right now."

"Looks to me like you are shorthanded, then." Karl commented. "If ya wanted, I coulda sent over one or two to help out. It's been pretty slow over at Chorrol."

Guildhead Farrel shook her head. "No need. I would have sent word, if it were otherwise." She paused, glancing toward the window that faced the street. "We've had our eye on a couple of city guards that might be suited to the Guild."

"New recruits." Merandil clarified.

Farrel continued. "Merandil originally served the Kvatch Guard."

"Yeah, I know." Karl recalled that the Altmer had been with the Kvatch Guard during the Oblivion Crisis, serving with Matius' grandfather. Merandil had served under two Counts before joining the Fighters Guild.

"Maplewood was also recruited from the guard." Merandil noted.

Farrel's expression indicated some distaste at the mention of Maplewood.

Merandil responded to that. "Yes well, not everyone works out for the long haul."

Farrel shifted the topic. "So Karl, is this just a casual visit, or are you here as our new Guild Master?"

"Acting Guild Master." Karl noted he was starting to say that a lot.

"Still only acting Guild Master?" Farrel prompted.

"Yeah well, that's one o' the reasons I'm over here."

The Bosmer Guildhead raised an eyebrow in question.

Karl responded with a crooked toothy grin. "To talk to ya about that stuff."

Merandil took that as his cue to depart. "Well, I'm sure I have things to attend."

Farrel nodded slightly and her second made his way for the stairs.

"Shall we?" The slight framed Wood Elf indicated the chairs.

"Yeah." Karl took the seat across from the Guildhead.

After an awkward pause, Farrel spoke first. "So then, I take it that you're feeling reluctant to just take over from the former Guild Master?"

"Well, yeah. Somethin' like that. Figured I oughta be talking with some of the senior Guildheads. Before anything's decided."

Farrel tried to read Karl's expression, deciding that a few things seemed fairly obvious to her. "I suppose it's fair to assume that you've already spoken with Canne?" She paused. "I might reasonably guess that she wasn't interested in taking the position of Guild Master, but probably offered her opinion of various others."

Karl shifted in his seat. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

Farrel continued. "Well, you shouldn't expect anything too different from me. Just to be clear, I'm perfectly content to remain here in Kvatch for the rest of my years. That aside, I'm happy to tell you what I think of anyone else you might have in mind."

Karl returned an understanding nod and they went on to discuss some of the other Guildheads. Her views seemed a general reflection of Guildhead Canne's opinions. Aside from Adrienne Canne, she felt that either Guillard of Bruma or Drals Vedran of Cheydinhal might make suitable Guild Masters. She wasn't that enthusiastic about Quaspas of Leyawiin. She offered the obvious reasons, but didn't seem aware that he might been making a move via the Elder Council representative from that southern County. She'd made idle mention of the former head of the defunct Guildhall of Rimmen, but he was now running the Regulators, the officially sanctioned guardians of that city since it became fully independent.

Of course, Farrel was interested to hear of Karl's plan to visit Sentinel and Wayrest and what that could possibly mean for the future of the Fighters Guild.

She noted that any effort to restore Guild operation in the west of Hammerfell could only be seen as beneficial. Furthermore, if he were actually able to encourage the Guildhalls of High Rock to reconnect with Cyrodiil, then she imagined that Emperor Mede would certainly take note of such a feat.

She'd lamented that nothing could be done about those southern lands that were lost to the Empire, adding that what remained of Morrowind was still a mess. She also noted that even Skyrim might remain beyond reasonable reach of the Guild. Its two remaining Guildhalls had gone their own way a long time ago and the Jarls of the Holds seemed to prefer their traditional Companions over an Imperial funded Fighters Guild.

Still, the Bosmer thought that if the Guildhalls of Cyrodiil, Hammerfell and High Rock were all united, then they'd be in a far better position to look toward Skyrim and Morrowind in the future.

Farrel had one further point to make. "For what it's worth, I think that you should just take the position and keep doing what you do. After all, you've more or less been doing the job of Guild Master for years."

"Yeah, maybe." Karl grimaced, exposing his lower canines. "Ya ain't the first one ta say it."

Farrel gestured with her hands. "Well, if you keep hearing the same thing…"

"Yeah well, I told the Elder Council that I'd get it sorted before six weeks are up. Still got a few weeks to get it decided."

The Bosmer tilted her head in acceptance. "Best that you do then, before Emperor Mede or the Elder Council decide to step in." She shook her head just slightly. "I'll admit that I was never perfectly happy with the previous choice."

Karl understood what she meant, but left it alone. After a short pause, they exchanged brief farewells and Karl left her office.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Northwind. Monika." Crito Catius was calling to her from half way up the stairs.<p>

She paused by the open doors in the back of the Chorrol Guildhall. "Crito?"

The shorter Imperial man rushed over. "Got a moment?"

Monika glanced through the doors. "I'm training with Alex and Vinnus."

"Won't take long." Catius assured her.

"Yeah, alright." She leaned out the open door and called to Alex. "Archery first. I'll be along in a bit." She turned back to her Imperial comrade. "What's up?"

With an expression of guilt, Catius glanced back toward the younger Guild Porter watching from the stairs. It was fair to assume that Dale's attention was only drawn by the unnecessary shouting inside the Guildhall.

Catius lowered his voice. "I was speaking with Nonius and Varro."

Monika furrowed her brow slightly. "Didn't Montrose send them out to look into a possible bandit problem along The Orange Road?"

"Yes, that's right. They just left."

"So?" Monika raised her eyebrows in question.

"They might be gone a couple of days."

Monika was becoming annoyed. "And?"

"I was getting to that." Catius paused again. "Like I said, I was speaking with Nonius and Varro. We all heard about Quaspas, from Leyawiin. We heard he was here. Heard was getting up in Montrose's face yesterday."

"Yeah, that's about right." Monika confirmed.

"Well, we've been hearing the rumours."

"Which rumours?"

The shorter man leaned in a little closer. "After he was here, he went up to the Castle to see the Countess. I hear he stayed at the Empire Inn last night and he's still in Chorrol."

Monika nodded. None of that surprised her.

Catius continued. "Nonius heard something from one her contacts. Word is that Quaspas was mentioned in the Elder Council, by the Leyawiin representative. There was talk that maybe he should be the next head of the Guild."

"I didn't know about that." Monika conceded with a concerned expression.

Catius wasn't finished. "Everything is looking like Quaspas is making a move to take over from the boss. That's what Nonius and Varro think."

"What else did they say?"

Catius winced a little. "Well, they're not real happy about that. The way they see it, the boss put Karl in charge for a reason. They say he relied on Karl to keep everything running just the way it should. According to Nonius and Varro, the boss figured that Karl would eventually take over when the three of them retired."

"Really?" Monika made no attempt to hide her surprise. "It's a pity, he didn't tell Karl that. If he did, then we probably wouldn't be having this conversation." She shook her head.

Catius looked a bit nervous. "Nonius and Varro. They don't like Quaspas and they don't trust him. His family fought for Leyawiin. During the rebellion."

"Yeah, I know." She looked him in the eye. "They're not planning on doing anything stupid, are they?"

"I dunno. Nothing, as far as I know. I just know they don't want to see Quaspas taking over the Guild."

Monika released a sigh. "Right, then. Just keep an eye out for trouble."

"I will." Catius agreed. "Have you seen Henrik?"

"Downstairs. Training, I think." Monika seemed distracted as Catius left her to go look for the Nord. She decided that Alex and Vinnus could wait a bit longer. She closed the back door and headed upstairs to talk to Montrose.

* * *

><p>After his lengthy discussions with Guildhead Farrel, Karl had gone downstairs to get something to eat. Shortly afterward, he stepped out of the Guildhall onto the main street of Kvatch.<p>

It looked like a typically busy Loredas morning out on the streets. To the left, he could see a small crowd of people milling about the open street stalls in the main square just short of the castle bridge.

Looking straight ahead, a steady stream of others flowed both ways along Mages Street. There were more stores located over on East Street. That probably accounted for some of the foot traffic headed to and from that direction.

A couple of workers were loading up pushcarts in front of the warehouse near the local College of Whispers. It wasn't immediately obvious where they were taking the goods.

Karl ignored all of that and turned toward the right, headed for the main gates of the city. He was planning to visit the local office of Imperial Trading Company located just outside the wall to check on the movement of westbound transport.

He wasn't all that surprised to learn that there were no trade wagons heading out until Morndas morning. The office manager advised him that a smaller wagon was due in the next morning from the Brina Cross Inn, but it wasn't a trade run. The driver was only expected to pick up supplies and head straight back to the inn. She suggested that he might be able to hitch a ride if he was around at the right time.

That sounded like a fair idea to Karl. The Brina Cross Inn was about two thirds of the way to Anvil. Even if that wagon driver didn't leave until a little later in the day, he could probably still make the city by nightfall on foot. It wasn't quite as far as coming from Skingrad

Karl left the Imperial Trading Company behind, intending to head back inside the city walls. He was just thinking that some light training might help clear some of the cobwebs out of his head. He'd nearly made it to the gates when he was unexpectedly interrupted.

"Karl gro-Baroth." A booming voice called out from behind.

Karl turned about, already perfectly aware of the source. "Frederick."

"Frederick the Loud." The big Nord declared loudly with a broad smile. He wasn't just tall. His broad frame was just as imposing. His light brown mane fell down past his shoulders in a mess of loose curls that merged with his unkempt beard. All that hair framed a large nose and green eyes that peered out from beneath his bushy brow.

"What are doin' outa Bruma?" Karl returned a toothy grin, covering his instinct to wince in the presence of the noisy Nord.

"Bruma?" Frederick boomed. "Guillard had nothing for me, right now. It's been real quiet up there. I reckon it must be even quieter with me out of town." He laughed loudly at his own comment. "I'm heading back there now. I'm just on my way back from visiting one of my kin, down in Anvil."

Karl maintained his grin, saying nothing of his intent to visit Anvil.

Frederick resumed. "Hey, what are you doing in Kvatch? Are you here as the new Guild Master?"

"Acting Guild Master." Karl responded reflexively.

"I get it." He didn't really look like he understood.

"Where you headed, right now?" Karl prompted.

"I'm off to the inn, of course. I can hear the call of a lonely ale from out here. I just need to go find it." Frederick's teeth peered out through his bushy beard. "You should join me."

"Maybe later." Karl declined. "I need to go attend somethin' at the Guildhall."

The big Nord nodded as they continued toward the gates. "No matter. I'll just have to put in some extra effort on your behalf." He patted his bulging coinpurse.

"I'm sure you're just the man for the job." Karl grinned mildly.

"Indeed." Frederick boomed enthusiastically, breaking into a chuckle.

They passed through the gates back into the city. Karl made his way back inside the Guildhall and Frederick the Loud headed off in search of a tavern.

* * *

><p>Aside from a brief exchange of greetings with Brolla, Karl avoided the other occupants of the Kvatch Guildhall. That wasn't difficult, since there were so few there. He headed down to the basement training area. He figured that swinging his axe at a training dummy for a while was just he needed.<p>

His earlier conversation with Farrel had him thinking about the future of the Fighters Guild. He was thinking that it was time that the Guild put some more effort into recruiting some new blood. Despite what Farrel and Merandil said, Kvatch needed more people, in his view. He also expected that Varro and Nonius wouldn't be around for much longer and they might need more people in Chorrol fairly soon. Bravil could do with another couple of Guild Fighters as well.

He started thinking about the broader fortunes of the Guild over the years. It certainly had its ups and downs since it first started back in the second era.

From old books, Karl knew that it originally grew out of something that began with the Akaviri Potentate of the early second era. It started off as some sort of Akaviri idea to keep the various provinces from having standing armies. He'd forgotten what they called it back then.

That thing started off with just Tsaesci soldiers of the Akavir. Eventually, they needed to recruit people from the local races to make up the numbers as they spread out across the provinces of Tamriel. The way it's told, it was starting to look a lot like the Fighters Guild before they actually started calling it that.

By the time that the Mages Guild became a proper thing and the Guilds Act brought about all sorts of other things like that, the Fighters Guild emerged as an official organisation.

The Fighters Guild managed to survive the upheavals of the first Interregnum, back in the middle of the second era. The way he heard it, the Guild of that period was probably more organised than the factions of the fractured Empire of that time. Though that couldn't have been too hard, since there wasn't any proper Empire. Not until the rise of Tiber Septim, or whatever he was going by before he became Emperor, General Talos, or one of those other names.

During the time of the Septim Dynasty of the third era, it seemed like the Fighters Guild held as much respect as the ranks of the Imperial Legion.

The Guild operated under a measure of relative independence within the Empire. At times, the Elder Council or reigning Emperor might exert some influence over the head of the Guild, but most of the time it was just left to do what it did.

Sometimes, the current Guild Master might have leaned toward a more consultative model where the heads of each Guildhall would gather and meet like a council or sorts. Other times, the head of the Guild might run it like it was its own little fiefdom within the Empire. There were also times when the Guild was tied to the stewardship of a particular family, like when the Dontons were in charge.

Either way, during the third era, the fate of the Fighters Guild had become closely tied to the funding and fortunes of the Ruby Throne. That was something that didn't really strike home as any kind of problem until the Empire faltered. The Stormcrown Interregnum had very nearly marked the ending of the Fighters Guild.

Really, though it wasn't immediately obvious, some of the signs had already started not long after the Oblivion Crisis. On the one hand, a wave of relief had washed over the land in the wake of Martin Septim's sacrifice to save Tamriel from the Daedric threat. However on the other hand, the people were nervous over what the future might hold with no Emperor on the Ruby Throne.

Though reluctant at first, to his credit, Chancellor Ocato had taken charge of the Elder Council and tried his best to hold the Empire together, providing some sense of reassurance. However, that had proved a costly undertaking.

During Ocato's tenure, firstly as Chancellor, then later as Potentate, he had overseen the project that initiated the rebuilding of Kvatch, along with the appointment of one of Goldwine's cousins as the new Count.

At the about same time, he'd also commenced the project to rebuild The Temple of the One in the Imperial City around the stone dragon that was once Martin Septim.

Ocato's push to broaden the active function of the Imperial Trading Company with the establishment of additional offices located at each of the major cities of Cyrodiil was another costly endeavour that added to the drain of resources upon the Imperial coffers. It would pay off in time, but time wasn't being all that friendly.

Matters were further complicated by several things that came to pass in fairly rapid succession. The Summerset Isles had already closed its borders to trade and moved to break away from Imperial rule. Then, the Argonians of Black Marsh had also rebelled and seceded from the Empire. In the sixth year of the new era, the Red Mountain of Morrowind erupted violently and laid waste to some of most populated regions of that land. After the assassination of the Mane, Elsweyr had begun to fracture and break away from the Empire piece by piece.

Added to all of that, the unrest in the south of Cyrodiil had soon given rise to the rebellion of Counties Bravil and Leyawiin.

In short, the Empire was spending far more gold than was coming in and it was all falling apart at the seams in spite of Ocato's efforts.

Of course, the Fighters Guild was struggling to cope with the diminishing sponsorship that resulted from Imperial funding issues.

Things soon went from bad to worse with the assassination of Ocato. He had stood as one of the few voices that tried to keep things together and that voice was silenced. The chaos only increased from that time forward.

The Fighters Guild was quickly losing relevance as the Counties of Cyrodiil and other provinces squabbled and fought over the future of the lands.

In Chorrol, Modryn Oreyn had done his best to work with what resources were available to keep the Guild operating. In some cases, he'd managed to secure some interim sponsorship from local Counties. Some were more forthcoming than others, but there was still only so much he could do.

By that time, the Guildhalls of Bravil and Leyawiin were effectively cut off from the rest of Cyrodiil and then briefly closed up. They were seen as something that more belonged to Imperial Cyrodiil, rather than the Counties. Several more far-flung Guildhalls were abandoned altogether, just because of lack of funds.

Many of the remaining Guildhalls only continued under the tenuous sponsorship of local rulers, some only just barely. As Karl recalled, the Fighters Guild of Kvatch had been briefly folded into the Kvatch Guard until the Imperial reformation under the new Emperor.

Chorrol's Guildhall had only survived under the sponsorship of Countess Valga. She had viewed it as far too important to allow it to fall. Still, her resources were limited in the face of the disunity that was tearing Cyrodiil apart.

Once Titus Mede had seized the throne and started working toward rebuilding the Empire, things began to turn around for the Fighters Guild. The new Emperor didn't forget the support that he received from the Countess of Chorrol and even directly from the Chorrol Guildhall. He moved to allocate funding for the Fighters Guild as well as some personnel that would remain loyal to the new Empire. That support helped the Fighters Guild to get back up on its feet and on the road back toward what it had been before.

Still, the Fighters Guild was again tied to the fate of the Empire. If the Mede dynasty were to falter, the Guild might quickly find itself in trouble all over again.

Karl had started thinking that something might need to be done looking ahead. Not that he really had any good idea exactly what that should be. For that matter, he still wasn't sure who'd be the best person for the job.

* * *

><p>After a few hours of training, Karl was feeling a bit better about himself. Swinging the axe like that generally had that effect on him. It got the air flowing and the blood pumping. It also gave him time to just think about things.<p>

He planned to just pass the rest of the day about the Guildhall and then make an early night of it. He supposed that he might take the time to speak with Brolla and Merandil again, if the opportunity arose. Otherwise, he might just find a book and a quiet place to read.

Karl took Frederick's earlier invitation as more of a warning. With any luck, Frederick would just drink his fill and fall asleep in a tavern somewhere. If he came to spend the evening at the Guildhall, that might easily disrupt the peace and quiet. Karl wasn't really in the mood for that.

~O~


	6. Chapter 6

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 6

Sundas the 6th of Midyear 4E49

Unlike the previous day, Karl gro-Baroth rose early on Sundas. By the time he was hearing the bells of the temple that morning, he'd already been up for quite some time. By then, he'd already done some light training downstairs in the Kvatch Guildhall, then cleaned up and headed back upstairs to find something to eat.

With no great rush, he took some time to have a mug of tea with Farrel and Merandil and shoot the breeze before they exchanged friendly farewells. He passed another brief chat with Brolla in much the same fashion, then loaded up with his pack and left the Guildhall.

It was still before mid-morning as he stepped out onto the streets. It was already feeling like quite a warm day in the making. That feeling of building steaminess was on the air again that day. Yet, the light and wispy cloud overhead seemed no obvious indication of rain.

The main street of Kvatch was looking busy. People were still arriving at the Temple of Akatosh as others were leaving. The open market stalls of the northern square looked ready to receive any passing trade.

None of that directly concerned Karl. He headed straight for the gates in the southern wall of the city, then made his way for the office of the Imperial Trading Company just outside.

Karl checked in with the woman that managed the local trading office, learning that the wagon driver still hadn't arrived. He went back outside and sat upon the low stone fence to wait in the shade of a tree. He figured he'd give it until midday. If the wagon hadn't showed by then, he'd just set off on foot. With some effort, he expected he could probably still make it to Anvil by early enough in the evening.

As it passed, he didn't have to wait all that long. It was still more than an hour before noon, when the wagon driver arrived outside the Imperial Trading Company.

Karl easily secured a ride with Marcel, the young Breton whose mother ran the Brina Cross Inn. The lad was glad to have a Fighters Guild member along. He wasn't necessarily expecting trouble, but as he suggested, it never hurt to have someone along on the road. Even better, if it was someone like that.

Karl helped the younger man load the wagon with his goods, and then they were soon under way.

* * *

><p>Once Karl had settled into the back of the small wagon, Marcel set off down the steep road from Kvatch. After the first few moments, the young Breton fell silent. He seemed more focussed upon keeping the wagon away from the drop-off at the edge of the road. The quiet suited Karl just fine.<p>

At the first sharp turn in the road, Karl gazed out across the countryside toward the south. Directly southward, the forested hills of Valenwood could be seen in the distance. Further westward, he could see clear to the Abecean Sea. He knew that Anvil was somewhere off in that direction, but it was too far off to make it out. Further off in that direction, a fairly substantial mass of cloud looked to be gathering out over the waters. It looked like some rain might be on the way after all, but it was still too early to tell.

Sitting in the back of that wagon, Karl started thinking about the first time he'd travelled with traders in that fashion. He was only nine years old at that time. He'd been living in the care of Fairbeard in Orcrest for more than a year by then. Ever since his mother had died from the effects of that deadly fever. They'd waited quite a while for Karl's father to return, but Fairbeard had decided that by then he probably wasn't coming back.

At the turn of spring in the tenth year of the new era, Fairbeard gathered what possessions they could reasonable take with them and arranged to take Karl away from Orcrest and Elsweyr, bound for the relative safety of Cyrodiil.

Fairbeard had told Karl of his plans before they'd set off. He was old enough to understand much of it, but not all. The hardest thing to understand was why his father was not coming back. For the most part, he just needed to trust what Fairbeard told him.

Karl Fairbeard had firstly considered going to Rimmen. However, he'd changed his mind about that. He decided that it might be more dangerous than staying in Orcrest. He'd heard that the Renrijra Krin were causing trouble again along the road to Rimmen and the other eastern parts of Elsweyr.

Added to that, Fairbeard also thought that going anywhere near Bravil might prove to be trouble. More so, since County Bravil had recently rebelled from Imperial rule.

Instead, he'd decided that they should take the north road to Cyrodiil, then make their way for the Imperial City. He'd arranged to travel with a trade caravan headed northward via King's Walk and Riverhold. From there, the shortest route passed through the northern part of County Bravil for a short way. Though he wasn't sure what to expect, he'd hoped that it would be safe enough travelling with traders.

Early one morning, they'd set off in the back of a trader's wagon along the road across the desert. Aside from the fresh experience of riding in the back of a wagon, the first part of that day held few other surprises for Karl. The open desert appeared no different from how it looked from the gates of Orcrest.

The trade caravan moved along at a slow but steady pace, stopping just a couple of times to rest by the roadside. By late in the afternoon, they'd reached the first destination of their journey.

Compared to Orcrest, the King's Walk settlement wasn't that much to look at. The main part of the settlement was walled with low rising keeps, but it was much smaller than the city where Karl had lived since he was born. The thing that impressed him most about that place was the number of elephants that were corralled for the trading caravans. They easily outnumbered the horses by two to one.

King's Walk seemed to be jointly run by a family of Breton traders and another family of Khajiit. The greater number of anybody there seemed to be the Khajiit. As a young Orc, Karl certainly stood out as an unusual outsider. At least it was much cooler there after travelling across the desert.

The very next morning, they set off again with the traders along the northern road. As the hours passed by, the desert slowly gave way to the grasslands of the open savanna. The caravan drivers remained wary of the wild beasts in the distance, but none crossed their path along the road.

The further north that they travelled, the more green the land became. Karl had never seen anything like it before. Copses of green trees became more common. That was nothing at all like the tall palms and rugged shrubs that grew within the walls of Orcrest.

By the time that they neared the city of Riverhold, the land to the west of the road became lightly forested hills. Further north, the forest appeared even substantial. Of course, except in paintings, Karl had never seen the like before that time.

Not long before nightfall, the caravan finally reached Riverhold. Karl could not have possibly imagined that place before seeing it with his own eyes.

By the entryway to that city, low stone bridges and a tall stone keep straddled the narrow but fast moving waters of a small river flowing westward.

Riverhold seemed to tower above. The city was built into the steep hillside. An odd arrangement of timber walkways, platforms and stairways rose overhead, connecting the several levels of wooden structures that clung to the steep slopes.

The source of the river appeared to be the higher mountainside further behind and above the city. A series of cascading waterfalls flowed down through the middle of the structures feeding the small river below.

Karl never got to go up into the proper part of Riverhold. They remained camped with the traders just by the base of the city. Still, he passed quite some time just gazing up at the wonder of it all.

* * *

><p>Karl's mind returned sharply to the present as the wagon pulled up unexpectedly. He knew they'd passed the Gottshaw Inn a while back, but they had to still be leagues from the Brina Cross Inn.<p>

Karl turned to look to Marcel. "What's up? Trouble?"

"Not sure." The young Breton responded nervously.

Karl was already getting up in the back of the wagon. A group of five men had just come up onto the road from the slopes below to the south. All of them appeared armed and armoured.

It took just a moment for Karl to realise that he recognised two of them. "Nothin' to worry about. Two of 'em are Fighters Guild."

Marcel looked relieved to hear that, but said nothing.

The dark skinned Redguard at the front was Rolden from Kvatch. The younger Imperial man at his side was Tertius Matius. It was a fair guess that the three behind them were Vigilants of Stendarr.

"Karl gro-Baroth." Rolden spoke with a hint of formality. "I didn't expect to meet you out here." He paused on a thought. "Have you assumed the role as our new Guild Master?"

Karl grimaced. "Acting Guild Master."

The Redguard nodded, maintaining a neutral expression. "Of course. You're headed westward?" He glanced in that direction.

"Yeah. Just came from Kvatch. Goin' over ta Anvil."

Rolden nodded again, accepting the response silently.

"Whatta you lot up to?" Karl prompted.

"We've just come from investigating some Ayleid ruins." Rolden waved his hand toward the south. "Matius and I are working with the Vigilants of Stendarr." Responding to Karl's expression of curiosity, he continued. "There have been reports of necromancers coming to and from those ruins."

"Find anything?"

The Redguard shook his head. "No. They were not there, but we found evidence that they had been. We needed to deal with some raised corpses and skeletons. Sadly, we found nothing to point to the current whereabouts of the necromancers."

"I expect you'll find 'em sooner or later." Karl offered.

"Yes, I expect so." Rolden agreed. "For now, we're headed back for the city."

Karl had noticed that young Matius had been studying him throughout the conversation. He paid no particular attention to the three Vigilants standing behind. After a pause, he addressed Rolden again. "Yeah well, we need to keep moving as well. You take care out there."

Rolden reciprocated the sentiment, then signalled his charges and continued onward along the road.

Karl sat back down, indicating he was ready to resume.

"Acting Guild Master?" Marcel grinned at the big Orc.

"Yeah." Karl's tone expressed that he wasn't at all interested in talking about it.

The young Breton took the hint, returning his attention to the task of getting the wagon back under way.

* * *

><p>Settling in the back of the wagon as they continued along The Gold Road, Karl tried to retrace his thoughts. He'd been thinking about when he was a boy and when he'd first left Orcrest behind with Fairbeard.<p>

At the city of Riverhold, that was the first time he'd seen so much greenery and so much water. He'd still been gazing up at the hillside city as the daylight faded, turning the view to torchlight and shadow. He'd again marvelled at the hillside city with the rising dawn, trying to burn the image into his mind.

Early that morning, the camp was packed up and the traders soon continued northward into Cyrodiil. As it passed, the northern border of Elsweyr was not all that far. It was marked by a stone bridge over a steep gully. Two Imperial Legion soldiers were stationed there, with a small camp just off the road. They seemed interested only in confirming that the Khajiit among them were actually traders, otherwise just waving the caravan through.

From there, the journey took them down through a thick forest in a slight easterly direction. At places, the road was steep and winding. Accordingly, the pace of the journey seemed a little slow.

The birds and other strange noises of the woods kept Karl on edge. Out in the desert around Orcrest, anything out there could be seen from a fair distance. In the forest, it seemed more like anything could be hiding just by the edge of the road.

Without incident, the trading caravan eventually arrived at the small settlement of Faregyl. There wasn't that much there, aside from a roadside inn and a few houses with small farming plots. However, Faregyl did feature a small encampment of Imperial soldiers protecting the passing trade.

It was fair to assume that the soldiers favoured traders headed toward the Imperial City. It might have been different if they were headed for Bravil.

It wasn't really all that late in the afternoon, but the traders wanted to make camp and stay the night at Faregyl. They thought it safer to camp with Imperial soldiers than risk being out on the road at night. Fairbeard thought the same.

The next morning, they were up early and soon travelling the road in a generally northerly direction. Perhaps only a league from Faregyl, they passed another small settlement along The Green Road, the main thoroughfare that linked the central region of Cyrodiil to the southern parts.

That place was called Ione. Like Faregyl, it was no more than a few houses and a small tavern in a rough circle on the hill above the road. The unusual feature of that place was the remains of an Oblivion Gate that stood in the middle of the village.

Karl only learned the history of the place much later. It was named for the Legion Captain who died leading his men into the gateway to fight the Daedric hordes. Neither Captain Ione nor any of his men survived the Oblivion realm. Those Legion soldiers that remained behind outside the gate at the camp had later settled there, naming the small village in honour of their fallen captain.

In the forty years since Karl first saw that little settlement, it had grown into a small township. Its location along The Green Road afforded it some reasonable amount of passing trade. There was supposed to be a hunting lodge there that belonged to Crown Prince Attrebus.

However back when Karl was still a boy, it was nothing more than a mild distraction along the roadside as they travelled onward.

Just a few hours later, Karl was astounded by what he saw. At the top of a rise along The Green Road, the trees parted to reveal sights unlike anything he had seen so far.

Just below the roadside, the land fell away to a body of water below. Beyond that, he caught his first glimpse of Lake Rumare. Even though he could only see a small part of it, it seemed like far more water than he could have imagined in the one place.

Karl's attention was quickly diverted to what lay beyond that body of water. He gained his first distant view of the Imperial City of Cyrodiil. The White Gold Tower rose up into the sky, reaching far above the walls and lesser towers of the stone city. Given just how far off it still seemed, he imagined that the place must have been huge. He guessed that the Imperial City had to be many times the size of Orcrest.

Over the following hours, the young Orc squirmed in the back of the wagon, craning to catch further glimpses of their destination through the trees. For a time, the path of that road kept most of it from being seen. Only the top of the tall tower came into view now and then.

Soon enough, the trade caravan had reached the northern end of The Green Road, where it joined The Red Ring Road, which encircled Lake Rumare. Just past there, they came upon the village of Pell's Gate along the western side of the road. That place seemed no more substantial than Faregyl or Ione.

Karl was far more interested in the view to the east of the road. The Imperial City appeared much closer and loomed even larger in view. He began to think it might be even bigger than he'd already thought.

Crossing a stone bridge over a lesser river, the waters of Lake Rumare dominated the view between their location and the City Isle. More structures of stone and timber were situated down below the main parts of the large city. There were a few large sailing ships upon the waters about that lower part of the city. Karl was again overwhelmed by the sight of all that water. If that was just a lake, then he could not really imagine what the sea might be like.

To the exclusion of near everything else, the young Orc continued to gaze at the Imperial City as the wagons rolled onward. He hardly noticed the Imperial soldiers that they passed along the road. They'd also passed by the ruins of old forts of an earlier time of the Empire and some old Ayleid ruins, but he hardly paid any attention to those things.

Because of the path of that road, the Imperial City seemed to grow no closer for several hours. It seemed more that the view slowly rotated as they circled around the Imperial Isle from the far side of the lake.

Eventually, the trade caravan finally arrived at the village of Weye. That settlement appeared only slightly more substantial than the ones they'd passed along the way. However, it sat right at the main passage to the Imperial City. The only thing between that village and their destination was the huge stone bridge that crossed the waters of Lake Rumare.

That bridge was nearly wide enough for two wagons to pass with paths for foot traffic on either side. The massive stone supports towered high overhead. By Karl's estimate, the length of that bridge was near to the full distance from one end of Orcrest to the other.

Though they'd nearly arrived at their destination, Karl had to wait a little longer before going any further. By that time, the sun had fallen low to the western horizon. The traders intended to camp overnight in the field across the road from the Wawnet Inn, then make their way over to the Waterfront District of the city the next morning. Fairbeard decided that they'd remain with the traders for one more night before also heading into the city.

The young Orc continued to stare at the pale stone walls of the Imperial City as the daylight faded. As the high walls of the city fell to shadow, that tall tower rising from the centre appeared to glisten as it caught the last rays of the setting sun. Karl was left wondering if the inside of that city would be as wondrous as it seemed from the outside.

* * *

><p>"Looks like we made it in fairly good time." Marcel announced from the front of the wagon.<p>

Roused from his thoughts, Karl turned to see that the wagon had left The Gold Road and was bouncing along the path up to the Brina Cross Inn. He also noticed that it seemed a little later than the younger Breton was suggesting.

"Looks like there's rain on the way." Marcel added.

"Yeah, looks like." Karl had realised why it seemed later. The cloud cover that he'd noticed to the south earlier that day, had gathered and moved in over the Gold Coast region, darkening the sky.

Marcel pulled up the wagon by the open shed that served as the inn's stabling facilities. "You might want to think about spending the evening at the inn. Could be in for some nasty weather."

"Could be." The Orc agreed. Still, he didn't want to go changing his plans because of a bit of rain. "Doesn't matter. I wanna make it to Anvil tonight."

Marcel accepted his assertion easy enough. He declined Karl's offer to help with unloading his goods. Since he wasn't planning on staying at the inn, the Breton lad didn't want to go holding him up any longer than necessary, not with that weather on the way. Gathering up his pack, Karl thanked the younger man for the ride and with passing farewell, he was soon on his way.

Karl started off at a quick and steady pace. From the look of the sky, it seemed fairly likely that he wasn't going to beat the turn of weather. About two leagues down the road from the inn, the rain started to fall from the lightly rumbling clouds overhead. It was just a light sprinkling at first. Before long, it soon turned to heavy downpour.

He started thinking that if he'd set out on foot in the early morning, he might have made it to Anvil before the bad weather set in. Of course, he didn't know it was coming and there was no point in dwelling upon might-have-beens. He continued his onward march at best reasonable speed. He also took note of the road. It was still feeling solid, but it could turn muddy and slippery soon enough if the rain kept up like that.

It was dark by the time that Karl trudged past the farms just north of the city. By then, he could hardly see where he was going and he was thoroughly soaked through. The rain had hardly let up since it started. He just concentrated upon keeping the road beneath his feet. The lights from the tower of the lighthouse on the far side of Anvil had served as a beacon until he drew close enough that the dark walls obscured it from view.

Nearing the main gates at the north of Anvil, by the dim light from a lamp outside the stables, Karl dodged the mud and horse shit on the path. Just ahead, a lone guard huddled in the frame of the gates by the light of another sputtering oil lamp. The guard was briefly startled by the large Orc approaching from the dark. Once Karl identified himself, the guard waved him through.

Slipping through the main gates, Karl entered the Guildgate Plaza area. It was still relatively early in the evening, but there was no one about. Everyone else had the good sense to be out of the rain. He trudged across the open square, past the benches about the trees at the centre of the plaza. He headed directly for the Anvil Fighters Guild over the far side of that open space.

Karl passed through the front doors of the Guildhall and stepped inside. Dripping water started to pool about his feet as he made some effort to wipe the mud from his boots on the straw mat just by the entrance.

The indoor training area just beyond the entryway was unattended. He could hear the sound of loud voices coming from somewhere above, but there was nobody immediately in view.

Before Karl had finished wiping his boots, an armoured Imperial man appeared from the doorway to the left. "Guild Porter Xander Langely, at your service. How may I help you." His expression quickly turned sour as he took note of the state of the dishevelled Orc.

"Karl gro-Baroth. Fighters Guild." His tone reflected his weariness.

"Baroth." Langley's eyes widened. He hadn't recognised him until just then. "Are you here as our new Guild Master?"

Karl sighed. "Acting Guild Master."

The porter regained his composure. "Of course. Very good. Were you hoping to see Guildhead Llaram?"

Karl sighed again. "Not tonight. I just wanna get outa this wet armour and get me some food and a bunk."

"Of course, sir. I can assist with that."

"No need. I reckon I can find everything."

"Very good." Langely agreed.

Karl took a step, then paused, turning back to the porter. "There gonna be any free bunks in the Guildhall?"

"I'm certain I can make sure there is a place prepared for you."

"Ain't looking for nothin' special. Just a regular bunk."

Langley nodded. "Of course. The bunk nearest to the door is free." He indicated the doorway to the left. "I'll just need to prepare it for you."

"Sounds good ta me." Karl accepted. He turned and headed off for the bathroom to clean up and get out of his soggy armour.

* * *

><p>Since he figured that he'd probably find little peace upstairs in the common dining area, Karl took his time in the bathroom at the back of the Guildhall. Aside from just one interruption from a younger Imperial man that he didn't recognise, he'd had the bathroom to himself.<p>

Once he was cleaned up and wearing dry clothes, he'd found a place to hang out his armour to dry and stashed his other gear by the bunk that Langley had indicated.

The common sleep area of the Guildhall was still unoccupied. Karl assumed that everyone was still upstairs. That meant that he could probably expect unwanted conversation if he headed up there to find some food. He really wasn't in the mood for any of that. He just wanted to get some food in his belly and then hit the bunk. If he weren't feeling so hungry, he would have just fallen onto the bunk right then. After a weary pause, he braced himself and headed on upstairs.

~O~


	7. Chapter 7

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 7

Morndas the 7th of Midyear 4E49

Karl gro-Baroth stirred uncomfortably to wakefulness just a short time after the early summer dawn. His body seemed to argue that he wanted more rest, but the ambience of the common sleep area of the Anvil Guildhall dictated otherwise.

He'd been woken by the rumbling noise of the loud snoring that emanated from the sizeable Nord near the middle of that large room. He wearily swung his legs over the side of the bunk and sat up. He soon realised that it wasn't just the hairy Nord he was listening to. The Orc Guild Fighter at the far end was also participating. It sounded like Hamlof and Garak gro-Uzgar had joined forces in a droning symphony of thunderous snorting and wheezing. That noisy pair had already managed to clear the room. It seemed that Karl had been the last to succumb to the raucous rumbling.

Karl yawned and dressed in his plain clothes with his khaki leather vest, then wandered off for the bathroom at the back of the Guildhall. Though he'd surely slept long enough to be feeling well rested, he was still feeling somewhat weary from his march through the rain on the previous day. He inwardly cursed in recognition that he just wasn't as young as he used to be. It served to remind him of why there weren't that many old Orcs around.

As he remembered it, the previous evening had been far more boisterous than he would have preferred. It had been a full house in the Anvil Guildhall. Added to that, just about all of them were in the upstairs dining area when Karl came to find something to eat. Only Guildhead Llaram and the porter were absent from the dining hall.

Three of the Guild Fighters had just returned from a job earlier that day, just ahead of the stormy weather. With the heavy rain, everyone had retreated to Guildhall rather than visiting the taverns of the city. That meant that the place was feeling rather crowded that evening.

Of course, those two noisy sleepers were just as noisy when they were awake. It would be a fair comparison to say that Hamlof seemed like a slightly less rowdy version of Frederick the Loud. He was almost as big and just as hairy. He also appeared to favour the ale in much the same manner.

Garak gro-Uzgar seemed to take his Nord friend's raucous behaviour as a challenge to determine just who could make the most noise. He was much younger than Karl and just a bit bigger all over. Though he wasn't balding, he shaved the sides of his head, leaving just a patch of dark hair about his crown, which he braided into a topknot.

Jarat was the Guildhead's Redguard second. He seemed to try to keep the unruly bunch reigned in, but only just enough to keep any fighting from breaking out.

Karl hadn't recalled the names of any of the others until Jarat introduced each of them. He hadn't actually known that young Imperial lad that interrupted him earlier in the bathroom. His name was Valus Vinicius. He was a recent recruit to that Guildhall.

Claudette Lelles was the Breton woman. He'd probably met her before, but he hadn't remembered her name or anything else about her.

It was pretty much the same with Quentin Inventius, the other Imperial man. Karl did recall the family name. He came from a line that was well known around Anvil. Some of his forbears had served in the Anvil City Watch and the Legion, as well as the Fighters guild.

Of course, they'd all been rather excitable about having Karl gro-Baroth in the Guildhall. He needed to quickly disavow them of their expectations, informing them that he was still only serving as acting Guild Master. That didn't seem to really have the desired effect. By Hamlof's reckoning, whether he was acting Guild Master or actual Guild Master, it still called for revelry and another round of drinks.

After getting some food in his belly, with a measure of brusque tact, Karl managed to eventually extract himself from the gathering to head downstairs and retire to his bunk for the evening. Despite the rowdy goings-on upstairs, he was asleep just after hitting the bunk.

Since nobody awake was about downstairs that morning, he expected that he might need to run the gauntlet upstairs before making it up to Llaram's office. With any luck, he thought things might be a bit quieter after the previous evening's activities.

Karl made his way up the stairs to the common dining area above. The Breton woman was quietly eating at the main table. Just nearby, Inventius and Vinicius looked to be nursing their sore heads, probably suffering from the after effects of too much ale. It was fair to assume that their mugs contained anything other than ale.

The Guild Porter suddenly appeared from the side with a spring in his step as he moved to intercept Karl. "Good morning to you, sir."

"Yeah, an' ta you." Karl grimaced. He was thinking that the younger man had no right to be sounding so chipper.

"It may be too early to meet with Guildhead Llaram, just yet." Langley indicated the bench by the windows. "Perhaps, after you've had something to eat?"

"Ain't hungry, but yeah…" Karl glanced in that direction. "S'pose, it is a bit early."

Langley returned a respectful nod. "I shall go see how long it will be before the Guildhead is ready to meet with you." He turned to head upstairs.

"Yeah." Karl responded absently.

Karl casually wandered over toward the bench by the windows. He cast an eye over the food, but he really wasn't feeling hungry. Instead, he settled for a mug of that cinnamon tea that someone had already brewed.

Looking out the window, it seemed that the rain had passed for the moment, but the skies still appeared dark and cloudy. He couldn't tell if it was likely to clear up that day.

"Morning, Karl." The baritone voice spoke softly. Jarat the Redguard had emerged from his private quarters on that level and come over to the windows.

"Yeah, mornin' Jarat." Karl tried to sound agreeable.

The Redguard poured himself a mug of tea. "I hope this lot didn't keep you from resting last night. They can get a bit wild when they're all here together like that."

Karl grunted. "Reckon I managed to get in 'nuff shut-eye."

"Good, good." Jarat cast a quick glance over the other three in the dining hall, noting the state of each of them. "You're planning to go up to see Llaram?"

"Yeah. The porter's gone to check with her."

Jarat nodded. "She's usually up fairly early. I'm sure she'll be ready for you, soon enough." He paused to take a sip of his tea. "I didn't have the chance before. I am sorry over the loss of our Guild Master. I'm sure he'll he be missed."

"Yeah. He had a pretty good run. Didn't know when ta ease back, but." Karl grimaced and took a sip from his mug.

"So, you've not decided to officially take his place yet?" The Redguard prompted in a casual fashion.

"Nah, not yet. Wanna talk to some of the other heads first."

Jarat nodded his understanding. His expression carried a measure of doubt or scepticism, but he said nothing of it.

They spoke briefly about some of the recent Guild contracts around Anvil. There'd been some incidence of mountain lions and wolves intruding upon the outlying farms, but otherwise things had been a little quiet since the start of the previous winter. Aside from the occasional roadside bandit trying their luck on the road to Kvatch, any sign of organised bandit activity seemed to be down in County Anvil.

The conversation was soon interrupted by the return of Xander Langely.

"Guildhead Llaram will be ready to meet with you just shortly." The Guild Porter announced. "By the time that you've finished your tea, I'm sure."

Karl acknowledged the porter's notification with a silent expression. After a few more words with Jarat, he excused himself and made his way up to the Guildhead's office.

* * *

><p>The door to the upper office was already open at the top of the stairs, but Karl paused to knock before entering. The Dunmer Guildhead was just settling down behind her large oak desk as she heard the knock.<p>

"Karl, come on in. Take a seat." She indicated the chairs in front of her desk. Llensi Llaram had been the head of the Anvil Guildhall since before Karl made second. She'd first joined the Guild as a recruit not that long before he was born. He imagined that she had to be in her seventies or eighties. Of course, that would be quite old for a human or an Orc, but not so much for a Dark Elf. Her gray skin was a little lighter in colour than some of her people. She kept her brownish hair cropped short. Her piercing red eyes seemed like that of a much younger woman.

"You're looking well, Llensi." Karl settled into a seat across from her.

"You look like you're also keeping well enough." Llaram returned the tribute then allowed a moment to pass before she resumed. "So then, still only acting Guild Master, I hear?"

"Yeah." Karl sighed. "Figured I outa be talkin' to some of the senior Guildheads before we settle on who takes the job."

Llaram raised her eyebrows, then leaned forward onto her elbows with her fingers forming a steeple. "I take it that you've already visited Skingrad and Kvatch on the way over here?" Her hands waved outward in a vague gesture.

"Yeah, that's right."

She waited a moment for him to continue.

"Yeah, had a talk with Canne over in Skingrad. Same with Farrel in Kvatch. Talked about a few things and about who oughta be running the Guild." He frowned slightly.

"I take it that neither of them were volunteering for the position?"

"Nah. You interested?"

Llaram frowned, but with an awkward smile. "Me? Interested in Guild Master?" She shook her head. "I do alright running the Guildhall here in Anvil… but, no. No, I don't think I'd want to be running the whole thing." She noted something in Karl's expression. "You didn't expect I was going to say something different?"

He tilted his head a little. "Well, thought I should ask."

Llaram returned a tight smile. "Well, I'm flattered, but…" She waved her hands. "If you're not going to just step up into the role, I'd have thought that Canne might have been just right for the job. I suppose that she's grown far too fond of running Skingrad."

"Yeah, something like that."

She paused a moment, staring off to the side and looking at a portrait that hung upon the partition hiding her sleeping quarters. "Why aren't you just taking the job? You've just about been doing it for the past decade."

Karl sighed. "Yeah, maybe. I just wanna see if someone else might be better."

Llaram nodded. "Well, excluding myself from that, I'm happy to offer my opinions."

The big Orc indicated his agreement and they went on discuss their thoughts of the heads of various Guildhalls. Aside from Canne, Farrel and Razaal from Rihad, she really only knew the others by reputation or from occasional correspondence. Llaram had indicated that she'd heard positive things about Vedran in Cheydinhal and Quaspas in Leyawiin, but she didn't know either of them.

The Dunmer also suggested that even some of the Guildheads' seconds might be worthy of consideration. She thought that Merandil was just as experienced as Farrel. Though she conceded that it might be a stretch to convince him to leave Kvatch. Added to that, she'd heard that they were a bit shorthanded over there.

She paused to praise Jarat, her own second. However, she added that she thought he was far more comfortable with serving as her second, rather than taking charge. Further to that, she really didn't want to be losing him.

After going through several names, Karl informed her of his intent to head on up to Sentinel to try move things along with getting a proper Guildhall established in that city again. It sounded like a good move to Llaram. She'd heard something of what happened there a few months back. He told her a few more details of those incidents.

Karl also mentioned his plan to stop in at the unaffiliated Guildhall in Wayrest. She was suitably intrigued by what he was suggesting. If there were any chance of Wayrest coming back into the fold, that would certainly be something. She expected that Daggerfall would be a tougher nut to crack. Still, if those two Guildhalls came back, then the rest of High Rock would surely follow suit. Of course, Karl agreed with all of that, but he wasn't expecting any miracles.

The Dunmer Guildhead slumped back in her chair. Her expression reflected the tone of reminiscence in her voice. "You know, I remember how tough it was back during the Stormcrown Interregnum. Azzan only managed to keep this Guildhall running by negotiating funding from Castle Anvil. After he went over to Chorrol, there were only three of us here to run the place. There were barely the funds to even cover that."

Karl nodded. "Yeah, it was a bit like that over in Chorrol, as well. The Kvatch Guild had to become part of the Kvatch Guard for a while. Some had it a lot worse than that."

"Yes, I remember." She paused on a thought. "I suppose that it's something to note, just how well the Guildhalls of High Rock have managed to sustain themselves under local funding. We rely upon funding directly from the Ruby Throne, but things didn't go so well for us without that."

"No, they didn't." Karl went on discuss some of his thoughts on that matter.

Though it was all fairly beyond their influence, they both agreed that it was a pity that the funding for the operation of the Fighters Guild wasn't structured differently. Direct Imperial funding certainly had its advantages, but they'd also experienced the opposite when the Empire faltered. Local funding didn't really seem like an easily workable option either. It only worked well for the wealthy counties and provinces and only then if a good level of favour could be maintained. Still, it was all good food for thought.

Once they'd pretty much exhausted the topics of discussion, Karl thanked Llaram for her time. After exchanging brief farewells, he departed her office.

* * *

><p>Monika Northwind returned to the Chorrol Guildhall via the front doors. She hadn't been gone all that long. She'd just been visiting her friend, Florence. That woman was the person in charge of the local College of Whispers. As far as they knew, Florence was the only other person in Chorrol that held some knowledge of Alex's unusual heritage and ability.<p>

Alex Pinewatch was pacing the space of the main level of the Guildhall with a concerned look on his face. He only paused once he realised that Monika had returned.

"What is it?" She prompted.

He sounded slightly worried. "A courier delivered a message. While you were out."

Monika's silent expression pressed him to explain.

"It was addressed to the Guildhall, but it was meant for Quaspas."

Monika sighed. She still wasn't getting the whole point. "What was it about, then?"

Alex shook his head. "I do not know all the details. It was something about trouble in Leyawiin. Montrose read it and then he sent Vinus out to find Quaspas."

She sighed again. "C'mon, let's go see Montrose."

Monika strode purposefully up the stairs. Alex followed closely behind.

Montrose's mood was hard to pick. He appeared mildly flustered. It wasn't immediately obvious whether the source of his anxiety was the message from the courier, Quaspas, or Monika's interest in his affairs. She continued to badger him to share what he knew, at the same time offering her assistance.

Montrose soon gave in easily enough. He provided the broad detail of what he'd learned from the courier's message. There was trouble down in County Leyawiin. Three days after Quaspas had departed, there were Khajiit bandit attacks around Border Watch, Water's Edge and farms just outside of Leyawiin. According to reports, they'd all occurred on the same day at around the same time, suggesting coordination of different groups. Though unconfirmed, the Renrijra Krin were the obvious suspects.

Vinus had yet to return from finding Quaspas. Still, in light of those reports, it was fair to assume that the Leyawiin Guildhead would be anxious to return to his own territory to take control of the situation.

Montrose rationalised that at the least, the trouble in Leyawiin would serve to get him out of Chorrol. He mused that it might look bad that those attacks had happened on his watch.

Monika countered with a different suggestion. She posed that Quaspas was likely to look even better if the Leyawiin Fighters Guild managed to deal with the trouble before the Imperial Legion.

Montrose again wondered what was taking Vinus so long to return. It was clear that he didn't like dealing with Quaspas, but he wanted to get it over with. Provided that Quaspas came back to the Guildhall before returning to Leyawiin, Montrose intended to recommend that he consider coordinating with Bravil's Fighters Guild as well as those at Water's Edge. After all, that kind of trouble was likely to affect that entire region.

Alex's only input to the discussion was that he hoped Karl would be back before Quaspas paid another visit to Chorrol.

No one disagreed with that sentiment.

* * *

><p>After his talk with Guildhead Llaram, Karl gro-Baroth headed back downstairs. He managed to narrowly avoid getting caught up in a discussion with Hamlof and Garak and made it down to the lower level. He wasn't in the mood for dealing with those two.<p>

Downstairs in the training area, the Breton woman was making an effort to direct the training of the younger recruit. Neither of them looked like their hearts or heads were really in it at all. Inventius watched on with a pained expression. If he didn't actually have a headache, he sure looked he did.

Karl ignored them to go check on how his armour was drying. The leather and cloth parts were still damp from the good soaking that he'd received the previous day. He left it hanging out to dry.

Before anyone took an interest in what he was up to, Karl headed for the front doors of the Guildhall and stepped out onto the streets of Anvil.

Just outside, he paused to take note of the sky. The gray blanket of cloud hung overhead, persisting all the way to the horizon. It was difficult to tell if it was actually going to rain or just maintain the threat. If nothing else, it made for a cooler day.

There were more than a few people out on the streets that morning. Some were browsing the open street stalls of Guildgate Plaza. Others were coming or going from the Chapelgate District or else heading up Westgate Street.

He noticed an old white-haired woman sitting on a bench by the large pond over the northern side of the plaza. It looked she was tossing bits of bread to the pigeons that gathered along the edge of the pond. He couldn't figure why anyone would actually want to feed them. He glanced at that big statue rising above the pond. It featured the figure of a naked woman with the tail of a fish in place of legs. He'd never made any sense out that thing before either.

Karl's immediate plan was to head for the docks and look into his chances of booking passage over to Rihad. He noticed a light waft of salt on the air as he passed by the College of Whispers just next to the Guildhall and then made his way up past the blacksmith's store and houses along Westgate Street. He passed by the Count's Arms and through the lightly crowded square at the bend in the street. A couple of open market stalls operated in the cramped space of Westgate Square. Sidestepping a drunken beggar, he soon arrived at the south-western corner of the city and passed through the gated doors to the Anvil Harbourside.

Outside by the port, Karl's senses were struck by the strong salty smell carried upon the brisk sea breeze. He also noticed the noise coming from the screeching gulls.

There were three vessels at the docks of the main harbour. One looked like a trading ship. The other two were smaller fishing vessels. That accounted for why the gulls were making so much noise. Further away from the docks, there was also an Imperial Naval vessel anchored offshore in the open part of the harbour.

The main part of Anvil's harbour was framed by a small peninsular of land that curved around to the south of the docked ships. That strip of land cradled the harbour like a great arm sheltering the bay from the Abecean Sea. Upon the hillside at the end of that peninsular, the tall tower of the lighthouse rose up above the harbour.

A row of wooden structures lined the shore side of the docks below the stone wall of the city. There were a couple of taverns, some warehouses and a general store.

Beyond the far end of the docks, Castle Anvil occupied the small island just east of the harbour. A stone bridge crossed the channel from the gated doors near the south-eastern corner of the main city. That bridge provided the only direct access to the castle.

That morning, most of the activity of the harbourside seemed centred upon the fishing vessels. It looked like they'd already been out and returned. He supposed that they must have headed out quite early and couldn't gone too far to be back by that time. It was a fair call that there was probably some concern that the weather might turn ugly again. A few sailors stood on the decks of the fishing boats, waving oars to ward off the plague of seagulls that circled overhead. Others toiled to fill barrels with the catch.

Karl headed off along the docks to the left. He passed by the first rustic looking tavern and the general store, arriving at the Harbourside Warehouse.

Stepping inside the ramshackle wooden warehouse, Karl was greeted by the burly Portmaster. He was an older Nord by the name of Hans Hareldsen. It was fair to assume that his family name was an Imperial affectation. After all, there had to be more than a few Nords by the name of Hans in the local region. Especially since so many Nords favoured the warmer climate of Anvil. He wore his gray bushy beard tied in a braid at the end. His moustache also ended in twin braids. By contrast, he had very little hair on the top of his head.

Karl asked the old Nord about booking passage to get over to Rihad. It turned out that he was in luck. The trading vessel in port was heading out in the morning and its first stop was Rihad. Added to that, the ship also taking on passengers.

Karl left the Harbourside Warehouse in an improved mood. He'd learned that the ship wasn't just going to Rihad. After stopping at that port, it would be sailing westbound for Iliac Bay, going all the way up to Wayrest via Sentinel. He could only book passage as far as Sentinel, since he was likely to be staying there for a few days. Nevertheless, that suited him just fine.

Overall, he was feeling quite pleased with himself. The day wasn't even halfway over and he'd managed to have a useful discussion with Llaram and organise passage to his next destination. There was nothing else that he needed to do in Anvil and he'd be in Rihad before the end of the next day.

Still, he wasn't feeling all that keen to head straight back to the Guildhall. Instead, he decided to pass some time just wandering about Anvil for a while. That would give him some time to think about his talk with Llaram.

He needed to rise early the next morning in order to be on time to catch that ship out of Anvil. Provided that nobody back at the Guildhall interfered with his plans, Karl intended to make an early evening of it.

~O~


	8. Chapter 8

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 8

Tirdas the 8th of Midyear 4E49

Just as intended, Karl gro-Baroth was up before the dawn. He'd tarried only long enough to get something into his belly, then gathered up his belongings and departed the Anvil Guildhall not long afterward.

The sun would have been up by the time that he'd arrived at the docks of the Anvil Harbourside district. However, it was still obscured by the persistent cloud cover overhead. It was obvious enough that some light showers had fallen overnight, but nothing at all like the serious rain of Sundas. From the look of the sky, it seemed possible that it might rain again, but it was hard to tell.

Karl was thinking that the weather seemed a bit off for that time of year, but then he reminded himself he was probably thinking of Chorrol's typical summer weather instead of the southern coast.

He vaguely recalled things he'd heard from sailors before. Rains like that from the western seas were usually more common in the spring. However, some years you'd see that kind of thing in the summer. It was supposed to be something to do with the cold of the northern seas drifting down and meeting with the warmer waters from the south. He heard that it was meant to be more of a thing around Iliac Bay, but sometimes it went much further eastward. The gray skies overhead certainly seemed to back that up.

There were no fishing boats at port that morning. Presumably, they'd gone out some time earlier. The Imperial Naval vessel was still anchored offshore. Karl also spotted the sails of another ship off in the distance. It looked like a trading vessel headed for Anvil. It seemed to be coming in from the west.

The only ship at port was the one that he'd be boarding, the Golden Drake. It looked like most of the cargo had already been loaded. The workers were just dealing with a few smaller crates that must have only arrived at the last moment.

Karl waited for a short while until it seemed relatively clear and then boarded the ship. He was quickly intercepted by a gangly Argonian male with brightly coloured bony crests upon his scaly head. The lizard introduced himself as the Golden Drake's bosun. He didn't mention his name and Karl didn't ask.

After examining Karl's papers to confirm that he was a paid passenger, the boson called a younger Nord man over to see him down below to his cabin.

The Nord sailor introduced himself as Bjen. He seemed mildly surprised by Karl's name, but said nothing of it. Though he looked young, he was smart enough not to go asking an Orc about his name.

Karl had been just momentarily taken aback by the lad's passing resemblance to Fairbeard. He didn't have the solid frame of his former foster parent, but his features were somewhat similar. Added to that, he wore his fair-coloured hair in the same medium length style to just above his collar and he also sported the makings of the same kind of short beard. He just shrugged it off. It wasn't the first time he'd seen a Nord that reminded him of Fairbeard.

Bjen led Karl down below deck. As they walked, the young Nord issued the usual instructions that he'd heard variations of many times before.

The sailor started with the typical deck rules. No passengers up on deck during port manoeuvres. No eating, drinking, spitting or pissing up on deck. The Captain's cabin and cargo hold were off limits to passengers.

On their way down below, Bjen pointed out the bathroom facilities. He also showed him the ship's mess and advised of the hours of availability.

Eventually, they arrived at Karl's cabin two decks down, midship on the starboard side. The sailor left him there to return to his duties.

* * *

><p>The cabin was rather small and rudimentary, not that Karl particularly cared one way or the other. Aside from the two bunks set one above the other against the hull, there was just a small cupboard, a lockup chest and a tiny table with a stool.<p>

There were also two lanterns in the cabin, one hanging from a hook and the other sitting on the table. The dim light coming in from the small portal left the cabin feeling rather gloomy, but he didn't bother to light a lantern.

Karl just tossed his gear onto the top bunk and sat down upon the lower bunk to wait for his journey to get under way.

Soon enough, the creaking noises that emanated from the wooden hull were joined by the sounds of clunks and bangs and shouting from above deck. The motion of the vessel soon suggested that they were pulling away from the docks. A few moments later, the distant ringing of the bells of the temple could be heard. That meant it was already eight. A little later than he thought it was.

After a short while, Karl imagined that the vessel was probably clearing Anvil Harbour and moving past the lighthouse. Once the Golden Drake was out in open waters, he figured he could probably go up on deck if he wanted to. However, he wasn't all that interested. He'd seen it all before. The sea just looked like the sea. There wasn't much to look at along the coastline of the western hills of County Anvil. There were just a couple of stone ruins and a few small islands. It was just as easy to remain in the cabin.

It would be several hours before they'd be arriving at Rihad. Like any trading vessel of that size, the Golden Drake would be headed a good distance offshore to avoid the shallows and those smaller islands along The Gold Coast. Eventually, it would swing about toward the mouth of the Brena River and then adjust course for the port of Rihad.

If that vessel hadn't been heading directly for Rihad, he might have taken the road overland instead. That would have meant heading back up The Gold Road toward the farms of the old Drad Estate and taking the path past there, then westward to the nearest crossing.

That would have taken a bit longer, but he probably would have still made it to his destination before the day was done.

Still, that lesser road wasn't much of a trade route. For anything of any bulk, it was far easier to rely upon the regular shipping trade. The road was so poorly used that it seemed like more of a trail. It didn't even attract roadside bandits.

Added to that, the bridge across the Brena had still not been rebuilt since the last time it had been taken out by floods. If he went that way, he would have needed to wait for the ferry to take him across the river. Of course, that was assuming that the barge was still making regular runs, like the last time he'd been that way.

After just a short period of sitting about in that small cabin with his idle thoughts, Karl started thinking that he should have brought something with him to read. Something more than the sheaf of notes that he carried in his pack. A book or two would have been a good idea. Even though he could reasonably expect to be in Rihad by the afternoon, it was already starting to feel like it was going to be a long and tedious wait.

His mind soon drifted back to what he'd been thinking of the other day. He'd been reminiscing over the time that he'd left Orcrest behind with Karl Fairbeard.

He'd travelled from the deserts of Elsweyr to the lush green forests of Cyrodiil. Just that part of it had been quite the experience for the young Orc. The seemingly vast waters of Lake Rumare had firstly astounded him. However, his childhood memories of seeing the Imperial City for the very first time seemed even more astonishing back then.

Of course by now, he knew the Imperial City quite well. However, back when was just a boy, the whole thing had seemed a blur. That first morning that Fairbeard took him into the city, Karl had been overwhelmed by the experience.

Almost everything seemed to be made of that pale gray stone from which the outer walls of the city were constructed. All the wide streets were paved in stone with raised footpaths along the side. Unlike Orcrest, there were no animals on the streets, but the occasional pushcart struggled to find a way through the crowds.

Wherever he looked, it seemed like there were more people about than he'd ever seen on the streets of Orcrest at one time. Even on the busiest of days.

More to the point, he'd never before seen so many different kinds of people all in the same place. He'd only spotted just a few Orcs and Khajiit. Many of the people looked to be Imperials, Nords or Breton, or perhaps some mix of that. There were also more than a few of the dark skinned Redguard about.

The other various races of Mer were also well represented on the streets. There were a few of the taller Altmer and some of their shorter Bosmer cousins. That was the first time that Karl had ever seen a gray-skinned Dunmer. He'd heard that they had those red eyes, but he'd never seen it before for himself.

It was in the Market District of the city that Karl beheld his first glimpse of an Argonian. He saw an Argonian boy, not much taller than he was, running along the street with his scaly tail swishing behind him. At least, he thought it was a boy.

Karl didn't know where Fairbeard was leading him. At the time, he was just doing his best to stay close to the Nord as he was continuously distracted by all the people and the stony buildings and columns and archways that dominated the place. From almost any spot where the view wasn't blocked by a tall structure, he could still see the top of that impossibly high tower that rose from the centre of the city.

Fairbeard had dragged him back and forth through various parts of the city. They went into a few inns and taverns. It seemed that Fairbeard was looking for someone, but Karl didn't know what it was about at the time.

At one point, they passed through a part of the city with a temple of sorts. He later learned that it was The Temple of the One. At that time, it was just a partially built structure. A domed roof was in place, but the walls were still being constructed. The walls of one side were mostly in place with sections that looked like they were left for large windows. The southern side of the structure was still partly open to the elements with just the main supports in place.

The form of a stone dragon could be seen behind some of the scaffolding. It looked much like the dragon statue in that first part of the city that they passed though. Only the one in the temple was much larger.

Back then, Karl thought the stone dragon was just a statue. He didn't know that he'd been looking at what remained of Martin Septim after he'd been transformed into an avatar of Akatosh and battled to close the gates to Oblivion.

From that part of the city, Fairbeard had led him down through the long tunnel that connected the main city to the Waterfront District. Emerging from that gloomy tunnel into daylight, a tall lighthouse towered over the docks. Of course, it was nowhere as tall as that huge tower in the middle of the city, but it seemed pretty tall at the time.

There were a couple of vessels at port and another couple anchored just a short distance offshore. The main docks of the harbour were located across the other side of a low stone bridge near the lighthouse. A tall stone wall towered over the warehouses and stores of the waterfront. That structure looked to be much like the outer walls of the Imperial City. Only it was just a single section of wall that stretched along the main docks.

Fairbeard dragged Karl along to some warehouses as he spoke with some people there and then they headed back up into the main city.

They'd firstly stayed in a modest room in a boarding house in the Elven Gardens District for a few days. After that, in rented rooms above taverns in other parts of the city.

Once Fairbeard had managed to secure some sporadic work down at the docks, they ended up living in a small rented shack down in the Waterfront District, on the exposed side of that tall wall.

Since they'd moved down to the waterfront, Karl had passed a lot of his time cooped up in that small shack. Going back up into the main parts of the city had become something of a special treat. Even when Fairbeard wasn't working, he was often stuck in that shack as his guardian made an effort to attend to Karl's schooling. At the age of nearly ten, he could read a little, but not all that well. Fairbeard had been quite strict in insisting that he needed to know how read and write if he wanted to get by in Cyrodiil. Karl didn't appreciate it so much at the time, but he was certainly glad of Fairbeard's efforts in retrospect.

That circumstance persisted for the next several weeks. Karl couldn't recall exactly how long it had been. It seemed like quite a while at the time, but it couldn't have been more than a couple of months at the most.

Their time in the Imperial City would soon come to an unexpected and sudden end as an air of chaos erupted that would promise to affect the entire region.

One day, Fairbeard had returned home unexpectedly in something of a panic. Karl only barely understood what he was being told at the time. Someone had assassinated Potentate Ocato in the Imperial Palace and the whole city in a state of turmoil.

Fairbeard had heard that a foreign Altmer was one of the primary suspects, but expected that anyone and everyone might well fall under suspicion. The City Guards and Imperial soldiers of the Legion had sealed all the outer gates of the city and were in the process of locking down the waterfront.

The Nord had already been questioned at the main docks as the soldiers set about searching the ships and buildings of the waterfront. He'd been escorted directly back to the small rented shack and directed to remain there.

Fairbeard had started talking about making plans to leave the Imperial City as soon as they were able. He seemed quite convinced that it would soon become far too dangerous and unpredictable to stay there.

That was the day that Karl first learned that he might have two half-brothers from his father's previous marriage. Fairbeard revealed a rather simplified version of the circumstances behind that. He also revealed that he'd just recently learned of an Orc living in Chorrol, bearing the name of gro-Baroth. He intended to get out of the capital and take Karl to Chorrol at the earliest possible chance.

* * *

><p>A distant rumbling noise stirred Karl from his thoughts. It sounded like it might be the rumbling of thunderclouds. He got up from the bunk in that cabin and tried to look out through the small portal. It was still looking gloomy outside. He couldn't tell whether it was lightly raining or if it was just the spray from the waves that he could see.<p>

He'd completely lost track of what time it might be and the limited view through that portal provided no reasonable clue. A more subtle rumbling in his belly prompted him to leave his cabin and go visit the ship's mess.

The ship's cook was a lanky Redguard man of some older years by the name of Barka. The cook informed him that it was less than half an hour before the mess closed for the afternoon clean up. That told him that it was coming up on two hours past noon.

Barka advised that from what he'd heard, he expected that they should be pulling into Rihad in little over an hour. That certainly suited Karl. To avoid annoying the cook too much, he just grabbed something quick to eat and an ale to wash it down. He was soon out of the way, before it became any sort of issue.

Karl visited the bathroom on the same deck and then returned to his cabin to wait for that part of the voyage to conclude.

It wasn't all that long before he'd heard the noises from above that indicated that the sailors were working the sails and rigging. The motion of the vessel also seemed to suggest several hard turning manoeuvres.

Eventually, the ship came to rest with a few loud bumps that could be felt reverberating through the hull. That told him that they must have arrived at the Rihad docks.

He waited down in his cabin for a short while longer before deciding to head above deck. He left his armour, weapons and pack behind, taking only his gold pouch with him.

Emerging onto the upper deck, he could see that the sailors were still busy with the rigging and strapping up the sails. It was not currently raining, but it was evident enough that it had been raining at some time during the afternoon by the damp timber and water on deck.

The ship's bosun quickly spotted Karl and waved him over. He advised him that if he wanted to disembark, it was best that did so right away. He also informed him that the Golden Drake would be setting sail after dawn the next morning and that he should be sure to back well before that time. That was plenty of time for what Karl had in mind. According to his own intentions, he expected to be back before dark.

The boson signalled the dock workers to hold off for a moment and big Orc made his way off the trading vessel and onto the docks.

It had been a while since Karl had been over to Rihad, but he still knew his way around. At a glance, it hadn't really changed at all since he was last there.

He made his way out of the harbour district and into the main marketplace of Rihad. He could tell that it must have rained over the city that afternoon, but it seemed relatively clear for the moment. Though the cloud cover did remain fairly threatening overhead.

The main docks had been a hive of activity, but it was a little less crowded in the marketplace at that time of the day. The local Guildhall was located up the far end of the main street. Soon enough, he was passing through the front doors of the Rihad Fighters Guild.

The layout of that Guildhall was rather different from any of those back in Cyrodiil. It was obviously heavily influenced by local styles of architecture. Still, the familiar banners of the Fighters Guild adorned the walls in much the same fashion.

At first, it seemed like nobody was about. He could hear some distant clanging noises coming from somewhere. It might have been someone training or else somebody working the forge downstairs. After taking just a few steps toward the stairs at the back of the Guildhall, an older Redguard man in traditional local armour appeared from a doorway off to the right. Karl recognised him as the Guild Porter, but he couldn't remember his name. He thought it was something that started with a 'G'.

The older man studied Karl with a frown. He wasn't quite as old as Skingrad's porter, but he was certainly well past his prime.

"Karl gro-Baroth, isn't it? From Chorrol?"

"That's right." Karl confirmed.

"Garond. Guild Porter." The Redguard announced gruffly. He paused with another thoughtful frown. "You here as our new Guild Master?"

"Still just acting Guild Master."

Garond nodded with a curious expression. "You here to see Razaal, then?"

"Yeah, if he's here."

"He's around. Should be up in his office." He paused to glance in that direction. "Give me a moment and I'll go check for you."

"You got it."

Karl waited about for just a few moments, before Garond returned and sent him on up to see Guildhead Razaal.

He headed up the stone staircase and along the balcony until he reached the open doorway to the main office. He went straight in.

Razaal was one of those solid framed Redguards with only slightly more hair on his head than Karl had, which was to say he wasn't quite bald. He was not all that much younger than Karl. He'd been the second Guildhead to run Rihad since Azzan had retired.

The Redguard Guildhead came out from behind his desk to greet him with a broad grin. "Karl gro-Baroth, you big ugly bastard. What brings you here?"

Karl returned a toothy grin as he took Razaal's hand. "Might be big and ugly, but I ain't no bastard. S'far as I know it."

Razaal's expression turned serious. "Are you here to just talk… or are you here to drink?" He drew attention to the bottle of Stros M'Kai Rum that he'd set upon his desk.

Karl maintained his grin. "We can do both."

The Redguard's broad smile returned. He grabbed a couple of mugs and they both sat down at the desk. Razaal poured out the rum and took a mouthful almost right away. Karl only sipped at the dark liquid. He wasn't nearly as fond of it as his Redguard comrade.

Razaal sought the Orc's eyes. "So then, still only acting Guild Master?"

Karl shrugged lightly. "Yeah well, figured I oughta be talking with some Guildheads before doing anything hasty."

The Redguard raised his eyebrows. "Hasty? I'd have thought you'd have just stepped in as Guild Master by now."

"Thought I outa look into what others want to say first."

Razaal shook his head as he swallowed a mouthful of rum. "We both trained under Azzan. Just like Llaram, over in Anvil." He paused. "You've been running Chorrol for the old boss for… what is it, about a decade now?"

"Yeah, 'bout that."

"Way I see it, you've already shown you've got the stones to get the job done. You should just get on with it and get the job done. Just like you've always done."

"You might be right." Karl accepted the vote of confidence.

"Of course, I'm right." Razaal emptied his mug, then considered the bottle. He decided to fill his mug again. Karl had still only been sipping at his own drink.

The Redguard continued with a mild grin. "Well then, that's settled. What else should we be talking about?"

That was a much shorter discussion than Karl had expected, but its tone was fairly clear. "Yeah well, since I'm acting Guild Master, I s'pose I oughta be looking into the state of the Guildhalls."

Razaal looked back over the rim of his mug. "Rihad's doing okay. Except I seem to be slowly losing people to other cities."

"You got enough?"

"Enough for right now. Couldn't go losing any more. Apart from me and Garond… Asim works the forge when he's not out on a job. Right now, I've got Kelson out on a contract with Salona and Mercius. That's all of us."

"Sounds like you might need new recruits soon." Karl commented.

"Sounds like." Razaal took another swill of rum before continuing. "Looks like Ceno and Bjorn won't be coming back from Sentinel. And now Dorian as well."

Karl responded by going on to share his plans for visiting Sentinel. Those plans confirmed what Razaal had already been expecting. Though the broad shouldered Redguard had grown accustomed to running the most prominent Guildhall of Hammerfell, he readily agreed that having a proper presence in Sentinel was a good thing.

Razaal responded to Karl's questions about those Guild Fighters operating out of the Legion Garrison in Sentinel. He felt that Corvus Ceno could probably take charge if one of them needed to head a Guildhall over there. He certainly didn't want to be losing Kelson as his second. Ceno was eighth rank and his experience with leadership out in the field was good enough in his opinion.

By Razaal's reckoning, neither Bjorn nor Dorian would be up to the task. He couldn't offer any opinion of Taimar. Though she was originally from Rihad, that was before she joined the Fighters Guild. He expected that she was just a reasonably competent mid-rank Fighter like Bjorn and Dorian.

No matter who was running a Guildhall in that city, they both agreed that Sentinel should be looking locally when it came time to expand their numbers.

Though Razaal lamented losing people to Sentinel, he was optimistic that it might bring about some positive change for the Fighters Guild in Hammerfell. Since the Stormcrown Interregnum, it'd been a tough ask to have Guildhalls anywhere in the west without a proper presence in the capital.

Just like in Sentinel, it had been decades since the old Guildhalls closed in Hegathe, Gilane and Taneth. Only the three easternmost cities of Hammerfell had proper Guildhalls. That prompted Razaal to speak of the other two.

Elinhir had been running a fairly lean operation. Apart from the Guildhead, there were just three others. Four, if you counted the porter and he was serving as the smith as well.

To the far north of Hammerfell, Dragonstar hardly seemed much better. Added to that, the Guildhead of that city kept two of his people posted over in Skaven. Since that place had no Guildhall either.

As both Karl and Razaal knew well enough, Dragonstar represented several other complications. That had been the case ever since the War of Bend'r-mahk. The Nords of Skyrim had occupied the eastern half of the divided city for decades afterward. Even though they'd recently given up on that, the bitter taste remained fresh in memory. Imperials and Bretons could go to Dragonstar, but Nords were not at all welcome. That wasn't likely to change anytime soon.

The big Redguard suggested that both Elinhir and Dragonstar could easily do with more people in their Guildhalls, but he hastened to add that they shouldn't be coming from Rihad. He didn't have anyone else to send anyway.

Of course, Razaal was mostly concerned with what happened in Rihad and the rest of Hammerfell, but he was still quite interested to hear of Karl's plan to go talk to the Guildhead of Wayrest.

It was fair to say that he remained somewhat sceptical of any of the Breton Guildhalls surrendering their current state of relative independence. He expected that they'd grown rather fond of only answering to local interests over the past couple of decades.

Still, he did suggest that any movement on that front would serve as something to impress. By his reckoning, the fact that Karl was even looking into it demonstrated that he was the right person to be running the Fighters Guild.

At the conclusion of their discussions, Karl resisted Razaal's offer to remain in the Guildhall for the evening. He finished off his mug of rum and they soon exchanged brief farewells. As he was leaving, the Redguard Guildhead wished him the best of luck and took one last opportunity to encourage his Orcish comrade to move up to Guild Master, before someone else tried to do so.

* * *

><p>By the time that Karl had left the Rihad Guildhall behind, it was just starting to grow dark. The sun had probably not yet quite fallen beyond the horizon, but it was hard to tell with that persistent cloud cover.<p>

Some of the open stalls of the marketplace had already started packing up for the day, but a few places were still open for business. Spotting the bookstore in the main street, Karl quickly dashed inside that place before the owner decided to close.

Inside that store, the Redguard woman hovered nearby; obviously anxious for him to either make a purchase or leave. He quickly settled upon a couple of things of interest, exchanged coin for the books, then went on his way.

Karl headed back though the marketplace of Rihad toward the docks. The easiest thing for him to do was to just get back on the Golden Drake. He planned to get something to eat, then sleep in his cabin. That way, he wouldn't have to worry about missing the early departure the next morning.

As near as his best guess, it would probably be about another four or five days to Sentinel, provided nothing delayed the voyage. At least now, he had something to read.

~O~


	9. Chapter 9

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 9

Fredas the 11th of Midyear 4E49

Karl gro-Baroth dragged himself off the bunk in that small cabin below deck on the Golden Drake. He couldn't see much through that small starboard side portal. Only that it was light outside and the sky still appeared overcast. The noises coming down from above deck, as well as the ease of motion of the vessel, told him that the ship had finally made port.

That was something to be grateful of. Though he expected that the crew had it much worse, he hadn't enjoyed the journey from Rihad so much at all. Those past two days had not passed exactly according to plan.

Things started off well enough. The vessel had set off on time on Middas morning, just after the dawn. The reasonable expectation was that the ship would make Hegathe by late Turdas afternoon or early evening. However, that journey had been delayed by the poor weather, adding at least a good twelve hours to the voyage.

As the Golden Drake set sail early Middas morning, the weather appeared relatively moderate. That morning, Karl even went up on deck for a short while, just to get out of the cabin for a bit. Those clouded skies had persisted, but it looked like no more than the possibility of some rain. The waters had not appeared too rough and the stiff breeze seemed to be something of an advantage during that earlier part of the day.

Those circumstances shifted quite a lot as the day wore on. Not so long after noon, the weather turned stormy once again as the dark clouds rolled in from the southern seas. That had coincided with the part of the voyage that involved sailing around the rocky peninsular of southern Hammerfell known as Hews Bane.

As Karl later learned, the crew exerted a great deal of effort struggling to keep the vessel from being driven toward the rocky outcrops. Normally, the trade ships tended to sail a good distance offshore. That day, the currents of the sea had other ideas.

After eventually clearing the peninsular of Hews Bane, the Golden Drake had been driven further off course into the northern part of Hunding Bay, nearer to the southern coast of mainland Hammerfell. The greater portion of Middas evening kept the sailors busy with trying to get the ship back out into the relative safety of open waters.

The usual route would generally take the vessel along a fairly straight line, through the deeper waters midway between Hews Bane and the island of Stros M'Kai. It was already obvious enough that several hours were going to be added to the journey.

Turdas morning brought only somewhat improved conditions. The storms had passed, but the seas remained rough, keeping the sailors just as busy. Accordingly, there was no opportunity for Karl to think about stretching his legs above deck. With the periodic showers persisting, he wouldn't have wanted to go up there anyway.

Passing most of the day in that tiny cabin, he tried to continue reading that book that he'd started on the previous day. It was one of those adventure stories set in the late second era during the struggles between the Redguard Crowns and Forebears. Part of the story took place on Stros M'kai and other parts on mainland Hammerfell. It was evident that some parts of the tale were based upon historical record. Other parts were far more fanciful.

Though the book was entertaining enough, Karl barely managed to get half way through it. With the way that ship was heaving and surging on the rough seas, that second day of the voyage from Rihad to Hegathe left him feeling more than a bit queasy.

Only to tend to his unsettled feelings of hunger, he did go visit the ship's mess later in the afternoon. Still, he didn't eat that much for fear that he'd be seeing it for a second time. He was just a bit surprised that he managed to keep it down.

It wasn't until some time after nightfall that the movement of the ship finally seemed to settle. It was a little longer before Karl's belly had settled. During the hours of darkness, the winds had fallen away and the waters finally became more calm. That made for an easier trip along that last stretch to Hegathe. However, the lighter winds also meant that it would end up taking a bit longer reaching that port during the early hours of the morning.

* * *

><p>Once he was dressed in his plain clothes and leather vest, Karl locked his cabin and left it behind. After visiting the bathroom facilities, he headed back to the ship's mess. He still wasn't feeling like eating any food, but he'd already learned that the Redguard cook always seemed to know what was going on aboard the vessel. After all, it was the one place on the ship that everybody came to. The big Orc settled for a mug of the tea that was already brewed as he struck up a conversation with Barka.<p>

The cook offered a brief summary of that last part of that voyage, informing him that they'd only just pulled into port ahead of the dawn. According to Barka, the Golden Drake would only be passing half a day at port. Just long enough unload cargo and pick up anything they were carrying northbound.

With that information at hand, Karl decided he'd look into passing a couple of hours on land. He'd never been to Hegathe before and he thought he could do with getting some fresh air. The musty smells aboard the ship were starting to get to him. Added to that, he was still feeling the vague after effects of mild seasickness.

Leaving the ship's mess behind, Karl headed for above deck. The skies were still overcast, but the clouds appeared much higher and less substantial. Toward the far south and west, it actually looked like the cloud cover was starting to break up a bit.

The activity on the deck of the Golden Drake appeared frantic, spilling out onto the dock. Crates and barrels were being hauled up from the hold. A steady procession of workers were busy manhandling cargo off the ship.

After a few moments, the gangly Argonian bosun had spotted Karl still standing by the door that led back below deck. After shouting at both the sailors in the hold and some of the port workers, he came over to see to the Orcish passenger.

Karl advised the boson that he wanted go ashore for a few hours. The Argonian released a hissing noise that reflected his annoyance, but agreed to clear a path to the dock as soon as there was a chance. He also made a point of reminding him that if he had not returned by noon, the ship would be sailing without him.

A brief wait passed before the Argonian shouted to the big Orc, directing him to move along and disembark during a brief gap in the movement of cargo. He moved quickly onto the dock and kept going until he was well clear of the workers.

Standing on the far end of the pier, Karl noted that the Golden Drake was the only trading vessel at port. There were two Imperial Naval vessels in the harbour. One at dock and the other anchored just offshore. There were also a few small fishing boats sitting idle at the port.

Looking about the dock area, it seemed a fair bit shabbier than the harbourside of Anvil. It was certainly nothing like the facilities of Rihad. Aside from the lighthouse and one other notably old stone structure, everything else was made of weathered timber.

Just a few gulls hovered above on the light sea breeze. They seemed a fair bit quieter than usual. He spotted a few more scavenging along the shoreline. A much larger seabird circled high overhead. It looked like a hawk of some kind, but he didn't know exactly what type it was.

Karl headed up from the docks toward the main part of the city. The path brought him into a rather run down looking marketplace. The buildings mostly seemed a haphazard arrangement of shabby timber structures, with just a few older ones built of stone.

There were a greater number of stone structures toward the other end of town, but even those showed sign of age and disrepair. Just above the rest of the city, stood a weathered palace. It looked to be typical of the old style of earlier Redguard architecture. Mostly, it just looked old.

It was hard not to notice that almost every person on the streets was Redguard. He spotted only a few that were either Imperial, Breton or maybe of mixed heritage. There'd been a far broader mix of people working down at the docks. He'd seen a couple of Dunmer and Khajiit unloading cargo onto the pier. So far, it seemed that he might be the only Orc in town. Some of the dark looks that he received from strangers seemed to support that notion. None of the open street vendors made any effort to acquire his custom. Even the beggars seemed to give him a wide berth.

He thought that it seemed a little hard to believe that Hegathe had once been the capital of Hammerfell. Of course, about a thousand years had passed since that time. That was back in the middle of the second era. Sentinel had served as the capital city of that land since that time.

Karl hadn't even seen Sentinel yet, but it was easy to say that the western city of Hegathe didn't fare well in direct comparison to Rihad. That easternmost coastal city of Hammerfell looked much better. Rihad looked more the part of a busy trading port. Despite the architectural differences, Rihad seemed more like Anvil, only perhaps slightly larger and better fortified. By stark contrast, Hegathe seemed like a place that had left its better days far behind.

Karl took care not to spend too long wandering about the city. Before losing track of time, he made sure that he was back aboard the vessel well before noon came along.

Back on the Golden Drake, he quickly returned below deck as the crew and workers toiled to conclude their business. Soon enough, the ship would be leaving the docks and heading back out to sea.

He firstly returned to his cabin, but didn't stay there. While the ship's crewmembers were all busy above deck and the vessel was still at port, he decided to visit the bathroom to shave the bristles from his face. That was something he hadn't even considered the past two days. He'd held no desire to bring a razor near his face during that rough voyage. It seemed no small wonder that more than half the ship's crew sported beards or looked like they were working toward one. The one obvious exception to that was the Argonian bosun, of course.

Feeling a bit better, Karl made his way back to the ship's mess again. He passed a brief conversation with the Redguard cook and then got something to eat and drink. He hoped he wouldn't be regretting it once the ship was back under sail.

* * *

><p>Guildhead Adrienne Canne looked toward the doorway of her office to see that Malcolm Forester was standing there. Elynwen, the Bosmer second also turned to look. The Imperial man looked rather unusually haggard.<p>

The Breton woman waved him in. "Forester, come on in. Take a seat." She waited a moment as he settled into the chair. "I expected you back last night."

"Well, with all the rain, we chose to remain overnight in the cave."

The head of the Skingrad Guildhall nodded her acceptance. "So then, how did it go?"

Forester cleared his throat. "Well enough. Well, more or less." He sighed wearily and smoothed his goatee beard.

Canne raised her eyebrows in question. He was generally far more verbose.

Forester offered a little more. "There were a few more goblins in there than we expected. Fourteen in total." He glanced briefly to Elynwen.

The Bosmer responded evenly. "I did advise you that I was unable to determine how many might be inside the cave."

"Of course." Forester agreed.

Canne stepped back in. "Was there any difficulty?"

Forester cleared his throat again. "Well, just a bit, but we did manage to dispatch them all in due course. A shaman was among them. Fortunately, it was not one of the older and more dangerous kind." He winced. "Artellian and Temel-Za did suffer some relatively minor injuries. Jaras took a few arrows and Temel-Za's leg and tail were badly gashed. I was able to treat their injuries with healing spells last night. They're both at the College of Whispers right now, visiting the healer."

"The others?" Canne prompted.

"Oh, no. Both Maplewood and Ras'Dar are perfectly fine. They both performed quite well. In fact, Ras'Dar is coming along quite nicely. He follows instruction far better than… well, those other two are becoming far too reckless, in my opinion."

Canne nodded, her eyes darted briefly to her second. "I'll be sure to have some words with them."

"Of course." Forester accepted.

The Guildhead finished adding some notes to her book before looking to Forester again. "Anything else that should be going into the report?"

Forester shrugged mildly. "No, I should think that covers it. Fourteen goblins, including a tribal shaman. All dispatched in and around the Bleak Flats Cave. Moderate injuries sustained by two Fighters Guild members. The goblins possessed a typical collection of shiny objects. Nothing of particular note."

Canne made some minor notes on the contract document before passing the parchment over for Forester to sign off on it.

The Guildhead leaned back in her chair. "You can tell the others to rest up today."

Forester nodded wearily.

She added a further comment. "They can also expect it remain quiet for a few days."

Elynwen spoke up. "I'll be scouting the West Weald Track over the following days."

Forester's expression indicated curiosity. That was the lesser road through the south of County Skingrad, eventually leading to County Bravil and the road into northern Elsweyr. It was not well travelled.

Canne offered some explanation. "We've just received reports of trouble in County Leyawiin. The Renrijra Krin are suspected."

Forester frowned in response.

Canne continued. "It's more likely that only Leyawiin and possibly Bravil would be affected, but it can't hurt to keep an eye out."

Forester accepted with a silent nod.

Elynwen passed comment. "From what I've heard, the Renrijra Krin don't have any traction around Riverhold. Doesn't mean they're not passing through that area."

"It's possible." The Breton woman conceded. "If you do spot any, you shouldn't tangle with them. Just observe and report."

"That's the plan." The Bosmer agreed.

Forester's expression indicated a measure of disquiet.

"Something else?" The Guildhead prompted.

"Well, I'm still concerned that we might expect further goblin problems. My friends from Chorrol have previously mentioned sighting larger numbers in parts of The Great Forest." He paused. "As you know, I have some family at Brindle Home."

"Yes, I know that." Canne sighed. "I have discussed those matters with Karl. I expect that he's going to organise a culling. Perhaps a couple of months from now. He's already suggested that it might be a coordinated effort. Most likely involving the Chorrol, Skingrad and Bruma Guildhalls."

Forester took note of that information with a nod. Hesitating just briefly, he voiced another thought. "Will Karl gro-Baroth be assuming the role of Guild Master?"

Canne tilted her head, considering her response. "I suppose that remains to seen. If I had any say in it… well, hopefully he will take the job. Either way, I expect the matter will be resolved soon enough."

Forester advised that he would go check on the other Skingrad Guild Fighters, then rose and left the Guildhead and her second in the office to continue their discussions.

* * *

><p>The Golden Drake set sail from the harbour below Hegathe at some time around noon, headed westward for Iliac Bay. By that time, Karl had returned to his small cabin. With little else to do, he started reading that book again. Without really knowing why, he soon found himself losing interest in what he was reading.<p>

At some point, his mind had drifted. He started thinking back to his childhood days once again. The other day, he had been going over his recollections of when Potentate Ocato was assassinated. That was when he first learned of his older brothers.

At that time, he'd been living with Fairbeard in that small rented shack in the Waterfront District of the Imperial City. With the general state of chaos that followed in the wake of the assassination of Ocato, and the general lockdown of the city, they were forced to remain inside that little shack for the first two or three days. Over the next few days that followed, they were permitted outside during daylight hours, but restricted to remaining in the Waterfront District. No movement was permitted between the districts of the city. The Legion soldiers rigidly enforced those restrictions.

There was plenty of time for Karl to plague Fairbeard with questions. His Nord guardian didn't know everything about Baroth gro-Uzgark's time with his previous family. It was really just the broad details. Even then, it was fair to say that he'd probably left out certain things, only speaking of them much later, when Karl was a little older.

At the time, Karl had wondered if that shack might be the very one that his father had lived in with his previous family. Fairbeard didn't know. There were many things that he didn't know. He wasn't even certain that he'd be able to find Karl's older brothers. The only thing he had to go on was the word of others. He'd heard mention of an Orc in Chorrol that went by the name of gro-Baroth, but no more than that. It seemed that the only way they'd learn more was by actually travelling to that city. Unfortunately, that was going to have wait.

Fairbeard had used that time to attend to Karl's schooling. Really, he was probably just trying to keep the young Orc distracted. Maybe he was also trying to keep himself just as distracted.

More than a week passed by before anyone was permitted to leave the Imperial City at all and some measure of trade activity resumed. Even then, the heavy Legion presence remained and anybody actually permitted to come or go was heavily scrutinised.

Eventually, Fairbeard managed to gain permission to leave the Waterfront District with one of the trade wagons headed for County Chorrol.

One morning, Fairbeard had gathered up all their meagre possessions and they went to meet with the traders over the northern side of the harbour.

Karl's recollections were interrupted by the noises coming from above deck. There seemed to be a lot of shouting, thuds and other various sounds. The ship lurched to one side indicating a fairly hard change in course.

He got up to look out that small starboard side portal. The weather appeared fair and the seas relatively mild. Of course, he couldn't really see all that much. He didn't know what might be going on and he also knew that he couldn't go up there to find out.

After some further course corrections, the ruckus seemed to subside. Since it was growing late in the afternoon, he expected that the Golden Drake would have been rounding the cape into the broad mouth of Iliac Bay. Still, it seemed to have been a bit more excitable than he might have reasonably expected.

Either way, there was nothing much that he could do about it. He returned his attention to that book he'd been holding earlier. After reading less than a page, his mind soon returned to his previous train of thought.

Back before the tenth year of that new era, Karl had never travelled nearly so far in his short lifetime. During all the time he'd lived in Orcrest, he'd never gone further than a couple of leagues from that city.

Upon a few occasions, in the company of other Orcs, his mother had taken him out to visit the shrine to the Orcish god. Just once, Baroth and Fairbeard had taken him out to see the ruins of the nearby Oblivion Gate, where a good number of Orcs and Khajiit had fallen fighting off the Daedric invaders before he was born.

Since leaving Orcrest, Fairbeard had taken him nearly halfway across Elsweyr and then nearly as far again to the heart of Cyrodiil. After all that, they were going to travel even further north. Though it was not really quite as far as they'd already gone, it did seem like a long way from where they started.

After leaving the Imperial City behind with Fairbeard, it took a couple of days before they reached their intended destination. Travelling with the traders, Karl passed most of that first morning sitting in the back of the wagon gazing back toward the Imperial City until it finally disappeared from view.

Just as the hills of the uplands obscured the clear view of the broad valley that contained Lake Rumare and tall towers of the city, the ruins of another old Oblivion Gate appeared just near the roadside. It was only the second one he'd seen since leaving Orcrest, but it served to remind him that they must have been all across Tamriel. Even at that young age, he knew that the Oblivion Crisis had plagued all the lands a decade earlier. However, he hadn't really given it all that much thought before.

During that afternoon, the journey was interrupted twice. The first time, it had been because of a pair of wolves threatening the horse that drew the wagon. Fairbeard joined the wagon's guard in fending off the creatures. They killed one wolf and the other ran off injured.

Karl had actually been rather excited by the incident, failing to fully recognise the potential danger of the circumstance. The two men did make it look fairly easy.

The second incident occurred a little later in the afternoon. As the wagon passed through the ruins of an old stone fort along the road, a bandit appeared from hiding and tried to ambush them with his sword at the ready. The wagon driver tried his best to outrun the armed attacker. With Fairbeard and the wagon's guard standing up and brandishing their weapons, the lone bandit quickly decided to back off.

Karl recalled that he'd been a bit more alarmed by that second attack. It was probably because it was a human threat instead of just dumb animals. In retrospect of course, he now understood that two hungry wolves might easily be more dangerous than a single bandit. Added to that, experience had since taught him that the average roadside bandit that operated alone was commonly not much smarter than a wolf and just as likely, far less cunning.

A little further along, they came across another trade wagon headed in the opposite direction. Where the wagons met, both groups stopped to set up camp for the evening. There was certainly some sense to the idea of safety in numbers. It also provided opportunity to exchange information regarding dangers along The Black Road.

During the evening, they were joined by a Legion rider headed outbound from Chorrol. He remained with the camp, intending to escort the southbound wagon as far as the County Chorrol border the next morning. He seemed keen to see to that bandit at the old fort if he was still lurking there.

That night, Karl had been alarmed by some of the distant noises in the dark, but he felt slightly more confident in the company of that larger group. He certainly trusted in Fairbeard, but it didn't hurt that there were two wagon guards and a Legion soldier at the camp.

The following morning, the wagons set off again in their respective directions. That second day passed far more quietly. Though they'd heard the noise of a forest bear bellowing in the distance, no dangerous encounters occurred along the road. The only encounter had been another Legion rider out on patrol.

Before too long, they reached the first sign of some civilisation as they neared a small farming settlement. Back then, Odiil Farm was still just a couple of farm buildings near the crop fields. In the decades since, the settlement had grown with the Odiil family. It was now three farmhouses with stables and a few sheds. The crop fields and livestock fields had also become far more significant than they'd been back then.

A little later, they approached a more substantial settlement. Karl recalled that he'd firstly thought that it must have been Chorrol. The two larger stone buildings at the front of the Weynon Priory settlement fooled him into thinking the place was more substantial than it really was. There were also some farmhouses and several other structures located further behind, but it wouldn't have even qualified as a town.

Karl's attention was soon redirected toward the high stone walls of a city further ahead along the road. Those walls were fairly tall, but not nearly as imposing as those of the Imperial City. He could see some sort of taller structure rising up from within the walls. The spires of that temple were nowhere near as tall as the tower of the Imperial City, but they still seemed fairly tall.

Before quite reaching that city, they passed by the ruins of another Oblivion Gate up on the hillside above the road. It's red tipped darkened spires rising up out of the remains of an old stone tower. That further reinforced the idea that those things must have been just about everywhere.

The wagon soon pulled up outside the buildings identified as the Imperial Trading Company. Both the office building and the warehouse both appeared fairly new back then. The old stabling facilities across the road looked much older and worn.

By the time that they'd reached Chorrol, there were still a few good hours of daylight left. Leaving the traders behind, Fairbeard gathered up all their belongings and then took Karl toward the south gates of the city. He'd again reminded Karl that they shouldn't expect to find his brothers right away. The first thing that they needed to do was find a place to stay.

* * *

><p>Karl gro-Baroth was roused from his musings with a start. He quickly realised it had just been the noise of a door slamming shut somewhere on the deck above that startled him. He also realised that darkness had fallen and he was sitting there in the shadows with that book still in his hands. He put it aside.<p>

Rather than bothering to light a lantern, he got up to head off to the ship's mess. He wasn't feeling all that hungry, but he was glad enough that he wasn't feeling sick.

Karl found Barka looking slightly busy in the mess. The Redguard cook was checking on each of the pots as he served up some food for a couple of Nord sailors. One of them was that younger sailor called Bjen.

Karl quietly waited his turn until the other two were done.

"What'll it be?" The Redguard cook looked up expectantly.

"Whatcha got?" The Orc returned.

Barka's expression turned serious. "Well, you can have the beef and vegetable stew, or you can have the beef with some vegetables."

"I reckon the stew sounds fine ta me. Don't want too much, but."

The cook nodded and started to portion out the stew into a bowl. "You want an ale with that?"

"Yeah, whatever ya got."

"Yep, got it. One ale."

"Hey, what was all that ruckus about, a coupla hours back? We have trouble roundin' the cape or somethin'?"

"No one told you?" Barka seemed surprised.

"Told me what? I was in my cabin. Figured I was meant to stay outa the way."

Barka released a long breathy sigh. "Had a bit of a close call, from what I hear. A pirate vessel pulled out from behind one of them little islands near the cape." He paused. "Might've been real bad if we didn't have an Imperial Naval vessel coming along behind us. Pirates took off once they saw the Imperial ship. The naval ship veered off to follow them."

"Pirates?" Karl was surprised to hear of all that.

"Yep, happens sometimes."

The big Orc shook his head in mild disbelief.

Barka continued. "Nothing you could've done about it, anyways."

"I'm with the Fighters Guild."

"Yep, you said before. That don't count for much out of the sea. Best thing is to try to outrun them." The cook met his gaze. "If things get up close and personal, then it's all over. You try to fight 'em, then they'll try to kill us all and scuttle the ship. Better to lose the cargo than lose everything."

"If ya say so." Karl conceded, though none of it sat right with him. He took his meal and headed for a table.

"Cook's got it right." The older Nord sitting with Bjen weighed in. He was a tall, but scrawny looking Nord with messy hair and a straggly beard.

Karl acknowledged him with a nod and a grunt as he sat down nearby.

Bjen spoke up. "It really is the best way with pirates. You just don't go messing with them. Just last year, a trade vessel got scuttled by pirates coming back from Stros M'Kai. It only came out cos' a survivor washed up on the island with a piece of the ship. They tried to fight back and they lost everything."

The other Nord added something. "We hear that some of the pirates get battlemages on their crews. Can't do much if they decide to torch the riggings out at sea."

Karl shook his head as he chewed on his food. "Just don't sit right with me."

"We were just lucky there was Imperial Navy around." The older Nord returned.

Bjen chimed in again. "Hans is right. Imperial Navy ships will probably have their own battlemages. With any luck, they managed to chase the pirates down."

Karl just nodded and kept at his stew. He was quite used to dealing with bandits on land. He'd been doing that for years. Bandits on ships sounded like a whole different breed of trouble.

The two sailors picked up on the big Orc's dark mood and let him be. They both left the mess as soon as they were done. As he finished off his ale, Karl realised he'd just met another Nord called Hans. It must've been a popular name.

Leaving the mess behind, he visited the bathroom, then returned to his cabin. He tried reading that book again by lantern light for a short while. At some point, he'd fallen asleep with the open book lying upon his chest.

~O~


	10. Chapter 10

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 10

Loredas the 12th of Midyear 4E49

With a yawn, Karl gro-Baroth wearily sat up on the bunk in that small cabin on the Golden Drake. The light coming in through that tiny portal told him that the dawn had come and gone, but he couldn't tell exactly what time it was. He guessed that it was still fairly early.

He wasn't feeling nearly as well rested as he might have expected. He had to figure that he'd got enough shut-eye. He didn't know whether his feelings of lethargy came from the days of inaction or from the odd dreams that plagued his sleep during the previous evening.

The source of those dreams seemed obvious enough. Since hearing that the trade ship had experienced a near miss with a pirate vessel during the previous afternoon, his thoughts had not strayed too far from that. He remained frustrated by the things that the crewmembers had told him of such circumstances. He railed against the idea of surrendering to pirates. Of course, the proximity of an Imperial Naval vessel had served to deflect that threat altogether, but it could've otherwise gone much worse.

His restless mind had provided him with several dreams that involved trying to outrun pirate ships on the seas and clashing with desperate sea-bandits upon a burning deck.

At some point, the dreams became a lot more strange than that. He found himself out on the roads of Cyrodiil, standing with comrades that he hadn't seen in many years. They found themselves facing off against a pirate ship set upon wagon wheels coming along the road. A horde of emboldened bandits stood brandishing their weapons from the upper deck. Half the battle was just getting near enough to actually fight them.

The last thing that he remembered before waking, he was standing with a battalion of Legion soldiers upon a hillside. Down below, a fleet of land-going pirate ships was sailing across an open field toward them.

Karl shook off the recollection of those stupid dreams. He knew it was just his frustration getting to him. Sea-going pirates were pretty much outside the reach of the Fighters Guild. The only time the Guild ever got to deal with them, was when they set up on land some place within reach of a Guildhall. Out at sea, only the Imperial Navy was really equipped to take them on.

Once he was ready to leave his cabin, the big Orc headed off to find the bathroom, then made his way back to the ship's mess again. A couple of Redguard sailors were leaving the mess as he arrived. Barka was just tidying up a bit at the time. The cook finished up what he was doing before turning his attention toward the ship's only passenger.

Karl wasn't feeling hungry, but he did go for some of that tea that the Redguard cook brewed. In any event, he'd really come to the mess for the informative conversation. He idly wondered whether the ship's captain actually knew as much as the cook at any given time.

Barka reported that the progress up Iliac Bay had been slow overnight under falling winds. He'd heard that the weather still only looked to hold light winds as the morning warmed up, but he was confident that they'd make the port of Sentinel before the day was done. Just might be a bit later in the day than planned.

Since the weather was meant to be fair and the ship was sailing on calm waters, Karl decided to go above deck for a while. By his reckoning, trading the stale air of below deck for the fresh air above seemed like a good idea.

Up on deck, Karl found that the skies appeared fairly clear in every direction for the first time in days. There was a bit of a breeze on the bay, but it was fairly mild. It certainly felt much warmer than he'd been expecting.

To the starboard side, the low set shadows of the distant coastline told him that they were a fair way offshore from Hammerfell. Over to the left, the hazy outline of the faraway hills of a western coastline seemed even further away. He figured that the Daggerfall region of High Rock was somewhere over there, but he didn't really know exactly what was what.

Since Sentinel was still hours away, the horizon to the north still only looked like open sea. He knew that Wayrest was located somewhere well beyond that visible horizon, but it must have been a long way off from there.

Karl passed a lengthy moment trying to figure just how far off those coastlines might be. He recalled being told that if he was standing down at water level, he could see about a league to the horizon. The higher that he got, the further he could see. It was supposed to be the same with taller things in the distance. That's why he could the coastal hills in the distance, but not the actual shoreline. He started to try to estimate how far above the water he was standing to figure out how far could see, before he realised that he didn't really know how to work it out anyway. He shook his head and put those thoughts aside. He figured that the people that navigated those ships must really know what they were doing.

He remained up on deck for a while, just enjoying the fresh air as the sun continued to rise higher into the deep blue sky. The salty breeze vaguely reminded him of the aroma of a steaming fish broth.

Soon enough, he decided that it was becoming far too hot to stay up there. The summer was certainly making its presence felt under the clear skies. Wiping the beads of sweat from his bushy brow, he soon surrendered to the idea of heading back down below.

Since he'd be leaving that vessel once they reached Sentinel, he wouldn't have to pass all that much more time in that tiny cabin. Maybe just a few more hours or so.

By the time he'd reached the cabin, he was already feeling more comfortable. It was much cooler down there. He briefly looked over his belongings. He didn't really have much to pack away. Just those books and his armour that he'd left out to air.

Karl stuffed everything into his pack that would fit. That was just about everything but his big battleaxe. He then sat down upon the bunk with a sigh. He again wondered how long it would be until the ship made port.

* * *

><p>After a short while of just sitting and thinking of nothing in particular, Karl turned his thoughts toward that place that he'd soon be visiting for the first time. He'd not given it all that much thought over the past few days.<p>

From speaking with Northwind and Pinewatch, he knew just a little more than the broad details of what to expect in Sentinel. Still, he figured that some of it would only reveal itself once he was actually there.

Back in Chorrol, Monika Northwind had sketched out the basic layout of the city for him. That was something he could have got from a map easily enough, but she'd provided him with some other far more useful details.

Her direct assessment of some of the Fighters Guild members posted there was of fair value. It pretty well lined up with what he'd heard from Razaal and Canne. Monika hadn't suggested that Ceno could lead a Guildhall, but she did say that she thought that he held some reasonable level of experience, at least as a field leader.

Monika held no direct knowledge of Sentinel's King, but she had met with some other key people in the city. Her insights from coordinating with Captain Broder, the man in charge of the Legion garrison, were somewhat useful. Karl was intending to consult with him before meeting with others.

Northwind had also spoken of the Imperial Consul in the palace complex. Though she didn't think much of Tertius Cipius, she recommended trying to make an ally of him. Along with other suspicions, she also mentioned that she thought his Redguard assistant was probably the more competent of the two, even if the Consul actually wielded the authority.

Monika had made mention of a Dunmer by the name of Hlaran. He seemed to be in charge of the Sentinel Trader's Association, though she thought he wasn't much more than a tax collector of sorts. She didn't hold him in particular high regard, but he seemed to hold some notable standing in Sentinel. At the least, she thought he should avoid making an enemy of him.

Though he wasn't so important in the scheme of things, Northwind suggested that the Colovian innkeeper by the name of Hodge could be trusted. She advised that he was quite helpful when they were in Sentinel and he knew the Legion captain quite well.

Karl wasn't exactly sure how each of those things would help him when it came time to persuade Sentinel's ruler to go ahead with his plan to get a proper Fighters Guild up and running in the city. Still, he figured that he could never know too much. He thought on that for a short while.

* * *

><p>Sitting there in the small cabin, Karl's thoughts soon drifted off topic once again. The previous afternoon, he'd been thinking about his arrival at a different city all those years earlier. At the time, he hadn't really known that it would soon become his home.<p>

It was fair to say that his first impression of Chorrol had seemed far less imposing than that of the Imperial City. Still, it was all very new and different.

Of course, Chorrol was nothing like Orcrest. He'd expected that it might be more like the Imperial City, but it was different again. Rather than the near uniformity of the tall stone structures of the main part of the Imperial City, the buildings of Chorrol appeared quite broadly varied.

There were certainly many structures of a darker coloured stone in view along the broad streets of that lesser-sized city. However, there also seemed to be just as much timber used in the construction of many of the buildings. Most of them were not so tall, with only one or two levels. Some of the lesser buildings looked to be only built in timber.

There were two larger structures that immediately stood out from others. A tall spired temple dominated one side of town and a huge stone castle stood upon a low hillside over the other side. Still, he didn't get that much of a good look around the place that first day.

Karl and Fairbeard passed that first night staying at a fairly run down looking inn. It was really no better than that tiny rented shack at the waterfront of the Imperial City. Given the noise coming from downstairs and what passed for bedding, it was probably a bit worse.

The next day, Karl had his first opportunity to take a bit of a better a look around town as Fairbeard led him about asking the locals citizens about an Orc by the name of gro-Baroth.

It firstly seemed that Chorrol was home to a broad mix of peoples. Though it wasn't nearly as diverse as the Imperial City.

After just a short while, it soon appeared fairly obvious that most of the people of that city were Imperials, Bretons, Nords or some mix of that. There weren't so many Redguard or Merish people in Chorrol. The only Argonians that he'd seen were at the general store near the southern end of town. There certainly didn't seem to be many Orcs or Khajiit about. In fact, just about none.

It took no time at all to learn of the Orcish brothers at the Chorrol Fighters Guild. They soon heard that Kurz gro-Baroth had been a member of that Guildhall for years. His brother Lum had been more on-again, off-again with the Guild, but could usually also be found over at the Guildhall. Accordingly, Fairbeard led Karl to that Guildhall over the northern side of town.

Karl recalled that he'd been feeling fairly excitable at the time. After all, it wasn't every day that he was going to meet with long lost family that he hadn't even known about until several days before. Still, despite his youthful expectation, it all seemed a fair bit removed from whatever he might have anticipated.

Arriving at Chorrol's Guildhall, Fairbeard and Karl were quickly intercepted by an Imperial man introducing himself as the Guild Porter. Karl couldn't remember anything much of what was discussed. It was probably something about Fairbeard not being a member of the Fighters Guild and questions about the Orcish brothers.

Karl's attention had been quickly drawn toward a tall Orcish figure coming in through the back doors of the Guildhall. He studied the large Orc intently as he looked back in his direction. The older Orc appeared almost bald, except for a lengthy patch of hair about the back of his head. Karl recalled thinking that he looked just a bit like his father. Only maybe a little younger and he had both of his eyes.

He'd heard the porter referring to the Orc as Lum gro-Baroth and Fairbeard soon went over to speak with him. Lum had raised his voice, going off at Fairbeard for bringing an Orcish child into the Guildhall. He recalled Lum's attitude shifting somewhat once he learned that Fairbeard had known his father.

Karl only caught bits and pieces of the conversation that followed. Lum gro-Baroth seemed rather unsure of things. He had mentioned that his brother Kurz was out on a job and was expected back later that day or the next day.

Fairbeard had agreed to leave with his young charge and wait until the other brother was back. Karl was left wondering if Lum actually was his older brother and if he was then why he wasn't more excited about it. It wasn't exactly what Karl had been expecting.

It was just a couple of days later when they met with the brothers again. Lum seemed a lot friendlier the second time. Karl wondered if his father had been more like him when he was a bit younger.

Kurz appeared rather stern and serious and a bit more bossy, especially with his younger brother. Karl couldn't recognise his father's face in the older brother, but he seemed to have some of his manner. Kurz was also balding, but for a lengthy tuft of hair about his crown, which he wore tied into a tail.

Before speaking with Fairbeard, neither brother held any idea that their father had ever returned from Black Marsh. Even less idea that he might have married again and fathered other children.

That's when Lum had revealed that their mother had eventually brought them to Chorrol after the disappearance of Baroth. The brothers had lived there ever since.

Karl was briefly excited by the idea of meeting their mother. However, Kurz had advised that wasn't possible. Grazar gra-Lumbakh had been dead for ten years. She'd been working as a smith in the arena of Kvatch when the Oblivion Crisis came. She perished in that city, along with a good number of its citizens.

Even though he'd never met her or even really known of her before, Karl was saddened to hear of that. After all, he knew what it was like to lose his parents. Just like his much older half-brothers. He took some comfort in seeing how Kurz and Lum had turned out.

* * *

><p>Karl was soon disturbed by the noises coming down from above deck. From the sound of things, he figured that the Golden Drake must have been nearing Sentinel.<p>

He got up from the bunk to look out the small portal. He caught sight of a stone wall protecting a harbour and a glimpse of a city up on the hills above. Some of the structures were topped with those dome shaped rooves like some of the buildings of Hegathe and Rihad. Before he gained a good look at it, the bow of the ship turned about in that direction, obscuring his already restricted view.

He sat back down upon the bunk to wait a while longer as the vessel was manoeuvred into the harbour. He'd just about had enough of waiting, but there was nothing he could about that. At least, the longest part of the journey was nearly over.

Eventually, the shouting from above accompanied the hard thumps that reverberated through the hull as the vessel made contact with the docks. He gave it just a little longer before leaving the cabin behind and making his way up above.

Emerging onto the deck, Karl remained standing just by the door waiting for the sailors to finish with the sails and rigging.

He noticed that it had cooled off a fair bit since earlier in the day. The light breeze off the bay seemed to have a lot to do with that. As he waited, he took a moment to look about at the harbour.

There were several piers extending out from the docks at Sentinel and the port seemed quite busy. There was another trading ship docked there, as well as an Imperial Naval vessel at port. Added to that, there were a few lesser-sized vessels in the harbour. Some of them looked like smaller fishing vessels.

Looking out toward the bay, he noted that the Sentinel harbour was partially framed by some low stone walls extending out into the waters. That must have been what he'd seen as the ship was turning toward the port. He couldn't decide whether they were defensive structures or just serving as shelter from the open bay. Maybe it was a bit of both.

The docks of the harbour ran from south to north along the shore. Above the northern end of the docks, part of the city towered above atop a line of rocky cliffs. There was at least one tower that rose high above the other structures in view. It was capped with one of those bulbous domes. He figured that might be the temple.

Between the cliffs and that tall tower, there was one taller building that featured a lower and broader dome atop the structure. Stone walls extended outward from the sides of that building forming part of a city wall of sorts.

He could see that Sentinel didn't have the same kind of fortified walls as the cities of Cyrodiil. At least, not on the harbour side. He'd been told that the walls on the eastern side were more substantial, but still not of such heavily fortified construction.

That northern end of the docks featured a large warehouse and some fishmonger operations. Aside from a rough looking tavern near the middle of the dock area, there were just two open sheds where some cargo was guarded by dock workers. Several other workers were waiting along the pier in preparation to begin unloading the Golden Drake.

Karl finally drew the attention of the Argonian bosun and negotiated his departure from the vessel. Once it was clear, he wasted no time making his way onto the pier and then onto the main dock.

He headed directly for the southern end of the dock where the main access up to the city was situated. Two pathways and a scattering of palm trees punctuated the stepped hillside between the lower dockside and the main city. One well-worn path appeared to be used for wagon or cart. The main path was a series of stone stairs leading up the hillside from the docks.

Karl already held some idea of where he was going. He headed straight up the steps that led up the hillside. Near the top of the climb, the path split into two. One path led directly into the main marketplace of Sentinel. The path off to the left led into the High District. That's where he was headed.

He knew that once he was in the High District, the Seaview Inn was the second building on the left, just past the arch of the entryway. Of course, he knew there was no actual Guildhall to stay at in Sentinel. He also knew that he could have probably stayed at the Legion house. However, Northwind and Pinewatch had recommended that place run by the Colovian man. He planned to stay there. At least for the first night.

He found the place easy enough. Aside from the broad domed roof, the inn actually did look a bit like a Colovian styled design from the outside. It stood in mild contrast to the buildings at either side of it.

Once he stepped inside, the place looked even more Colovian on the inside. Some of it looked a little like the inside of the Oak and Crosier back in Chorrol. Other aspects reflected the style of the Arborwatch Tavern, with more exposed stone than timber.

He spotted a group of three Dunmer about a table over the right hand side of the main tavern area. They didn't pay him any attention. A pair of Breton men over the other side gave him a bit of an odd look, before quickly looking away.

It seemed that the only Redguard in the tavern was the young woman attending the main counter directly ahead. That's where he was headed.

The barkeep affected a friendly smile and spoke up at the Orcish stranger's approach. "Welcome to the Seaview. What can I do for you?" Her accent sounded a bit different. Presumably, that's what most of the locals sounded like.

Karl reflected her smile, exposing his lower canines. "Yeah, uh… I reckon I'll be lookin' for a room, but I was hopin' to talk to Hodge."

"Hodge?" The Redguard woman looked slightly suspicious.

"Yeah. Friends of mine said this is the place to stay in Sentinel. Said I should make a point of seein' Hodge."

A rugged man with a fair complexion emerged from the room behind the counter. He looked to be about Karl's age or older with thinning gray hair. "I'll handle this, Tallie."

The Redguard woman stepped to one side.

The Colovian man looked to the visitor. "You don't sound like a High Rock Orc. Is that a bit of a Colovian accent I'm hearing?"

Karl seemed a bit surprised by the comment. "Yeah, I s'pose it is. Karl gro-Baroth. Fighters Guild, outa Chorrol. I work with Northwind and Pinewatch."

The Colovian's face lit up. "Forester's friends?"

"Yeah, the one with the beard." He gestured about his chin.

"Any friend of theirs…" The innkeeper paused to wipe his hand. "Name's Severius Hodge, but everyone calls me Hodge." He extended his hand in formal greeting.

Karl took his hand. "Yeah, pleasure to meet ya."

"First things first." Hodge reached for a clean mug. "At the Seaview, the first drink is always free for anyone out of Colovia. I'm originally from Anvil, myself." He grinned in a friendly fashion. "A Colovian ale?"

"Sounds good ta me." Karl agreed.

Hodge waited for the Orc to try his ale. "So then, I take it all those other Fighter Guild people made it back to Cyrodiil okay?"

"Yeah, they're all good. Northwind told me you got the best place in town."

"I do my best." He grinned. "Someone's got to provide a friendly place for easterners in Sentinel. I take it you're looking for a place to stay?"

Karl murmured in the affirmative, nodding over the top of his mug. Hodge went on to offer suitable accommodation at the Seaview. He recommended the same room that he'd provided for Forester when he stayed there. The price seemed quite fair. Karl agreed easily enough and Hodge exchanged keys for coin.

"I can't say whether you know exactly what Forester, Maplewood and the others did for this city." Hodge prompted.

"Yeah, I know all about it. Read the reports."

"Nasty business." The innkeeper shook his head. "It could've turned out a lot worse if they hadn't risked themselves like that." He paused, shaking his head again. "Idiots with Daedric artefacts. Always trouble. Good thing they managed to stop it before it got right out of hand."

"Yeah well, they pretty much always do good work. I gave Northwind and Pinewatch promotions just recently. They were just about due anyways."

Hodge returned a questioning glance.

Karl clarified. "I'm acting Guild Master back in Chorrol."

Hodge frowned, indicating a further question.

Karl sighed. "The old Guild Master got himself killed a few weeks back. Since I was his second, the workload falls to me."

"I see. I think." Hodge mused. He quickly decided that he didn't quite see. "We're a long way from Chorrol out here. Don't even have a proper Fighters Guild. So… then, what would bring the head of the Fighters Guild all the way to Sentinel?"

"Acting head." Karl sighed again. "Since all what happened, I want to look at gettin' somethin' done about the Fighters Guild in Sentinel. A proper Guildhall, instead'a just some temporary postings. I'm plannin' to meet with the ruler of the city to organise somethin'."

Hodge took a brief moment to absorb that information, then looked to Karl with a start and a frown. "But… but, you're an Orc."

"Well, yeah. Last time I checked." If he was at all offended, he didn't let on.

Hodge explained his comment. "What I mean is… Well, the King's father… he was the one that went after Orsinium. Him and the ruler of Daggerfall."

"I ain't from Orsinium." Karl shrugged.

"No, I gathered that."

"I was born in Orcrest, but I've lived in Chorrol most of my days."

"I can certainly appreciate that. I mean, you're in charge of the Fighters Guild. That's got to count for a lot. I just wouldn't count on any Redguard ruler to see things the same way."

Karl returned a long hard look. He didn't seem outwardly angry.

Hodge resumed. "If I was you, I'd say it's best to go through the Consul. He'll have more sway with the King. Representing the Empire and all."

"I was plannin' to go talk with the Consul anyway. I wanna go see the Captain at the Legion garrison as well."

"I know Captain Broder. He's a good man. I'd say, if you have the Legion and the Consul at your side, you stand a much better chance of making things happen."

Karl nodded slowly. "Yeah, sounds like good advice."

Once he finished his ale, Karl headed on up to his rented room on the second level of the inn. After stashing his gear and hanging out his armour, he made his way to find the bathroom facilities. Aside from other immediate concerns, he wanted to wash away the smell of that musty cabin.

A short while later, Karl headed back downstairs to get something to eat. He didn't stay in the tavern all that long. It was already starting to fill up with evening patrons and feeling a bit crowded. He even noticed a few Redguard in the place, though the rest of the crowd seemed a broader mix of races. He thought it seemed like there were a few more Dunmer about than he would've expected.

Karl soon returned to his rented room and retired for the evening. Hodge's comments had given him something to think about. He hadn't even considered that it might have been any kind of problem that he was an Orc.

Unless you were a rampaging tribal Orc dedicated to causing trouble, it didn't matter much at all back in Cyrodiil. It mattered even less in the Fighters Guild.

As far as he could tell, the Imperial Legion actually seemed to like having Orcs in their ranks, provided that they followed orders properly. He did pause to think that he didn't know about any high ranking Orcs in the Legion. He didn't really know whether that was because of some sort of Imperial prejudice or just because the typical Orc preferred fighting to military leadership. Maybe it was a bit of both.

He figured that he'd have the opposite kind of issue among those tribal Orcs in the north of High Rock. By their reckoning, he probably fit the exact measure of what they looked down upon. He was a city Orc.

Either way, there was only so much he could do about any of that. He'd start by seeing Captain Broder and the Imperial Consul, then figure it out from there. Tomorrow was another day.

~O~


	11. Chapter 11

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 11

Sundas the 13th of Midyear 4E49

With some minor effort, Karl gro-Baroth rose fairly early in that rented room at the Seaview Inn. He was feeling well enough rested, but he could have easily slept much longer if he hadn't forced himself to get up. It was that bed. It was too bloody comfortable.

Standing and stretching, the big Orc stepped over toward the west facing window and looked outside. He briefly wondered about the name of the inn. There wasn't much of a sea view from the windows of his room. All he could see was the stone building next door and the pigeons that gathered on the ledges. He supposed that the views of the bay were only available from the level above. He didn't really care. That's not why he was there.

From what he could see of the morning sky, it looked like the fine weather was likely to persist. He supposed that meant that Sentinel was probably in for some hot days. He'd heard that the cities near the Alik'r Desert could get uncomfortably warm when the winds came from that direction. With the passing of that inclement weather, he imagined that he'd learn the truth of that soon enough.

Karl wandered off to the bathroom to attend to immediate matters, then returned and dressed in his old iron armour. He knew that he didn't really need to be wearing it around town, but he wanted to look the part of a Fighters Guild member.

As he headed downstairs, he was just thinking that nearly two weeks had passed since he'd decided to set off from Chorrol. At that point, he held no clear idea of how long his business in Sentinel would keep him there. He briefly questioned whether going to Wayrest still seemed like a good idea. It still felt like visiting Wayrest's Guildhall was the right thing to do. He wasn't so sure about wasting any time on personal matters. Still, he figured he was getting well ahead of himself. He needed to concern himself with the matter at hand before worrying about any of that.

In stark contrast to the previous evening, the tavern of the Seaview appeared completely deserted. That Redguard woman that tended the main counter was nowhere to be seen. In response to Karl's heavy footfalls, Hodge quickly appeared from the backroom.

A fairly brief conversation passed, during which Karl declined the offer of any anything from the kitchen. He wasn't feeling hungry at all. As he'd stated, he was a lot more interested in getting over to the Legion garrison. Hodge tried to help with directions, but he already had a pretty good idea of where he was going. The innkeeper also started speaking of Captain Broder again, but Karl tried to cut that short without upsetting his host too much. Soon enough, he was on his way.

* * *

><p>Karl stepped out onto the street, pausing a moment to get his bearings. He could almost see the way to the Sentinel Palace from where he stood. It was much closer than the Legion Garrison was, but he really wanted to go see Captain Broder first. As he understood it, that meant going right around the walls of the Palace District to get over to the district where the Legion house was located.<p>

He headed up the hill along the main street of the High District. Soon enough, he passed through the archway into the Temple District of Sentinel.

Sporadic streams of people moved along the streets, converging upon the tall temple at the northern side of that district. In that regard, it seemed that Sentinel was no different from other cities of Tamriel. Though worshippers could attend the temples any day of the week, it seemed that the greater number would choose the Sundas morning gatherings.

As Karl understood it, that had become more of a thing since the Oblivion Crisis. It also seemed that the troubles of the Stormcrown Interregnum had some effect upon the popularity of those weekly gatherings. He found it just a bit ironic that the masses paid a lot more attention to their gods just after everything looked bad. In passing, he wondered how long that might last.

For Karl, it had been years since he held much interest in visiting the temples with any sort of regularity. It seemed that the only time he stepped into a temple was for skills of the healers and the like. He'd long ago given up on seeking guidance from the Divines directly from shrines or priests.

Sure enough, any priest would have plenty to say if he sought advice. However, it didn't seem like any of the Divines had much of anything to say to him. In fact, nothing at all. He figured that if the Divines ever needed him, they'd find him easy enough.

That temple in Sentinel sure looked a lot different from the Chapel of Stendarr back in Chorrol. The main part of it was the structure with that tall tower that rose up above. However, it looked like a bunch of buildings around it were also part of the temple. At first glance, it looked like that tower stood taller than the palace, but that was probably just because it was situated on higher ground.

Most of the houses of that district looked fairly ordinary. Not exactly hovels, but not any indication of notable wealth either. There was an inn located not far from the temple, but it wasn't much to look at. Certainly nothing like the Seaview.

The whole of the Temple District was actually positioned on higher ground than the High District. It seemed obvious enough that name was all about higher status and wealth of those that resided in the High District. He supposed that it also had something to do with it being right next to the Palace District.

He soon passed from the Temple District into the lower corner of the Northpoint district. There was no clear signage or other obvious landmark to indication the transition, but he pretty much knew where he was from the rough map he'd previously studied.

Most of that district looked to be residential, but for a small general store and a little ale-house. Further up the hill, at the northern end of Northpoint, there were a few larger manors that indicated some wealth. However, most of the houses of that district appeared rather small and ordinary, like those of the Temple District.

The bottom end of Northpoint was more clearly marked, or it was probably more the case that the adjoining district was more clearly indicated. A shabby stone wall marked the border with the Foreign Quarter. The worn signage by the archway into that district seemed more like a derisive warning than a proud declaration. It affirmed the notion that foreigners were more tolerated than welcome. It wasn't really like that back in Rihad, the only part of Hammerfell that he really knew.

From immediate impressions, the Foreign Quarter of Sentinel appeared to be odd mix of wealth and poverty. The first two homes just inside that district were larger manors that indicated the likely wealth of the owners. Beyond that, things looked a bit different.

Just past those houses, there was a small open space with shrubs and decorative gardens on one side of the street. Across the street, a densely packed graveyard featured numerous stones. Most of the stones didn't look all that old. He wondered what that meant.

Further along, rows of small wooden houses lined the main street. Those smaller houses appeared very ordinary, almost identical and not all that old. It seemed obvious enough that the occupants would have represented some of Sentinel's less affluent citizens.

He continued onward down the street. He knew that the Legion house was located near the middle of that district. There was a short side street on the left where the main street bent toward the right. The side street ended at a boarded up gate in the outer wall of the city. There was a smaller door set into the boarded up gate. It looked like a fairly recent addition.

On the left-hand side of that street, there was a single level tavern called The Legion Outpost. On the other side of the street was the Legion garrison, with the familiar banners, featuring the stylised dragon symbol.

Reaching the Legion house, Karl went straight inside. He could voices from somewhere inside, but nobody came out to see him. He was about to head further inside when a young male Legion soldier emerged from the doorway, wearing light leather armour. The uniform looked a lot different from what the Legion wore back in Cyrodiil. The soldier still looked like he was from Cyrodiil, probably Nibenese from the look of him.

The young soldier looked just a bit surprised to see a large armoured Orc standing by the front door with a battleaxe across his back.

Karl spoke first. "Yeah, Karl gro-Baroth. Fighters Guild."

"Fighter's Guild?" The soldier repeated.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm hoping to see Captain Broder."

"Captain Broder?"

"Yeah, is he here?"

The young soldier hesitated. "Uh, well… yes. I'll… I'll go see if he's available."

Karl just grunted his assent as the soldier dashed off back inside.

After just a few moments, the young Legionnaire returned, advising that his captain could see him right away. They paused briefly to allow a group of four soldiers to pass by on their way to the front door. The soldier then led Karl further inside to a large common area. It was an open space with tables and a kitchen area off to the side. It looked like the place where the soldiers gathered to eat.

The captain of the garrison stopped on his way toward the kitchen area over to the left. He was a broad-framed Colovian man, perhaps in his forties. His dark hair was cropped short with some gray starting to appear. He wore a similar uniform to the other soldiers.

"Captain Broder." He extended his hand in greeting. "You're Fighters Guild?"

"Yeah, Karl gro-Baroth, outa Chorrol."

Broder frowned. "Aren't you the one taking over the Guild in Chorrol?"

"Still acting Guild Master." Karl responded automatically.

The captain returned a questioning look.

Karl responded in a resigned tone. "Yeah well, looks like I'll probably be takin' over as Guild Master, 'less someone says different. In the meantime, there's work to be done anyways."

"Understood." Broder paused briefly. "Look, I was just getting some tea. Can I interest you in some?"

"Sounds good ta me."

"Good, good. I'll get us a couple of mugs, then we can sit down and talk."

Karl stood by as the captain heated the brew and poured out two mugs of cinnamon tea. Broder mentioned that the tea was an imported blend from Cyrodiil that he got from his Colovian friend at the Seaview Inn. Karl indicated that he was staying there and that he'd already met with Hodge. Soon enough, they were settling down at a nearby table with their tea.

After taking a sip from his mug and savouring the flavour, Broder spoke up. "So then, what's brought you over here to Sentinel? I assume that it's Fighters Guild business?"

"Yeah, pretty much. But first up, I thought I'd come an' see you and ah…" Karl glanced about. "Aren't the Fighters Guild people s'posed to be operatin' outa here?"

Broder nodded over his mug. "That's right. Four of them now, but they're not in at the moment. They went with a trade run down to Chasetown. There's been some bandit trouble to the south the past few weeks. They're expected back either tonight or tomorrow."

"Yeah well, they're the main reason I'm here. I wanna get 'em more organised."

After another sip of tea, Broder nodded again. "There's been a bit more work for them since those other ones passed through recently. Some of their work comes through me, but they mostly organise themselves."

Karl finished with a sip of tea. "After all that business that went down a coupla months back, I hear there's a good chance of gettin' a proper Fighters Guild presence in Sentinel, 'stead of just temporary postings."

"I can't argue with that. What are you actually planning?"

"I wanna get a proper Guildhall in Sentinel. Gotta talk with the Guild Fighters posted here, but I figured I oughta be talkin' with a few others as well, like yerself, before I take it to ruler of Sentinel."

Broder distractedly watched a group of his people heading for the front exit before returning his gaze to the visitor. "There's a good chance that might be something of a problem for you. The King, I mean."

Karl grimaced. "Yeah, Hodge said that the King might not wanna be dealin' with an Orc. Won't matter that I got nothin' to do with Orsinium."

Broder returned a serious expression. "Yes well, Hodge is probably right. Can't say that I agree with that kind of thing at all." He shook his head. "I can tell you that I've served with more than a few Orcs over the years. Most were good soldiers. Way I see it, if you're head of the Fighters Guild, or even just acting Guild Master, that should be all that matters. Still, I'm not the one you'll need to convince."

"Yeah, I'm startin' to get that. I was plannin' to go have a talk with the Imperial Consul stationed here."

Broder nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I would think that's the best course. Provided that the Consul is on side, he'd probably be the best one to advocate for the Fighters Guild and negotiate on its behalf."

"Sounds like good advice. I'd rather be doin' it all more direct like, but I s'pose ya gotta do what ya gotta do. Hopefully that Consul fella will be cooperative."

The captain met Karl's gaze. "I don't want to get in your way, but I'd be glad to throw my weight behind your proposal. With both the Consul and the King. After you've spoken with Cipius, of course."

"Sounds good." Karl agreed.

"I do have one other idea that might be useful."

Karl returned a curious expression.

The captain continued. "Well, after all that recent trouble, the King finally agreed to an increased Legion presence here. I'd been getting by with just twelve of us. I've already received an extra twelve and there's more coming later."

Karl acknowledged with a silent nod as he sipped at his tea.

Broder resumed. "This place is too small. We're building a new garrison to accommodate that. The new Legion house is going up just outside those old gates. Got the go ahead just a few weeks ago. It's all paid for by the Empire."

"Sounds like things are goin' yer way."

"Yes." Broder nodded, then finished his tea. "Well, once we're out of this place, it would probably make a fine Guildhall for the Fighters Guild."

Karl glanced about. "Yeah, it probably would."

"As I understand it, the land belongs to the city, but the garrison was built by the Legion. If you can sell the idea to the Consul, I'd imagine that the Legion's rights to the property could be passed to the Fighters Guild. You'd just need to get him to convince the King."

"Yeah." Karl responded distractedly as he considered those ideas.

"So then, who's going to head this new Guildhall? Broder prompted.

"Not sure yet."

"Unless you had someone else in mind to send over here, from what I observed, either Forester or Northwind seemed perfectly competent."

"Wouldn't think that would be likely. Anyways, they were just passin' through here when that stuff went down. More of an accident." Karl looked to the captain. "I wanna see what that Ceno is like."

Broder shrugged mildly. "I couldn't say whether he was Guildhead material. You'd be a better judge of that. I can say that he seems competent enough as a field leader. He seems a bit more centred, since that thing over at the arena." He paused. "The others, Bjorn, Taimar and Dorian. They seem more like followers than leaders."

Karl nodded slowly. "Pretty much what I figured. I wanna talk to that Ceno when he gets back here."

"Of course." Broder agreed. "I'll let him know."

Karl shifted the topic slightly. "What's the deal with the guards and other soldiers of this city?"

"Well, the King's people are divided into two ranks. Well, sort of. The City Guards are subordinate to the Order of the Candle. The Guard handle the regular duties about the city. The Order maintain security in the Palace District and serve as the King's standing army. They all answer directly to one of the King's stewards."

"How does that work with the Legion?"

"Well, up until just recently, not as well as I would have liked. They let us maintain order in the Foreign Quarter, but I have no authority in the rest in the city. We've been permitted to patrol the main roads outside Sentinel and we're often handed assignments to look into other minor regional troubles. Mostly, the kind of things that the Fighters Guild would handle." He paused. "There's been a bit of a shift lately. I still report directly to the Consul and he deals with the King's steward. Still, I'm picking up that there's more of a spirit of cooperation and the City Guards seem a bit less resentful of our presence. It's still early days."

Karl took all of that on board. "Yeah, I reckon I get the picture."

Broder went on to explain the situation with the Vigilants of Stendarr that operated out of the Temple District. Up until those recent events that culminated beneath Sentinel's arena, they'd been somewhat belligerent with both the Legion and the Fighters Guild members stationed there. Since then, they'd given the appearance of being more cooperative, but they still held firmly to their own agenda and operated independent of other local authorities.

The room had cleared of all others during their lengthy conversation.

Broder signalled that he thought they were just about done. "So then, what are you planning to do now?"

Karl finished off his tea. "I reckon I'll head over to that Consul fella and see what I can manage."

The two men exchanged brief farewells and Karl was soon leaving the garrison.

* * *

><p>Karl made his way back across town to the High District, then continued on toward the entrance to the Palace District. During that morning, he'd spotted just a few of Sentinel's City Guard here and there. With some minor variation, the guards wore uniforms of leather and light mail. A flimsy tunic over the armour prominently bore the crest of Sentinel.<p>

That crest featured a stylised image of a crescent moon over the sun. The crescent moon image was actually a caricature of a face with a comically stern expression. He figured that it probably had some special meaning, but he didn't know what it was.

So far, the City Guards hadn't paid him all that much attention. Upon reaching the entrance to the central district that circumstance changed. The guard standing by the archway became far more interested once he noticed that the Orc intended to head for the main palace complex.

The uniformed Redguard shifted to stand in the archway, adopting an alerted posture. "Who are you? Do you have business in there?"

Karl paused to speak with the guard. "Uh, yeah, Karl gro-Baroth. Fighters Guild. I'm here to see the Imperial Consul. I was told his office was in there."

The Redguard hesitated a moment, taking his measure, then nodded sternly. "Go ahead. Straight to the front entrance. See the palace guards inside."

"Yeah, thanks." Karl returned a mild grin.

The guard maintained his stern expression as he watched him pass.

Between the outer walls of the central district and the main palace complex, there was an area of open parkland with lots of shrubs and a few trees here and there. A group of about twenty odd Redguard soldiers marched in formation over the northern side of the open space. Their uniforms were different from the regular guards of the city. Karl guessed that they were part of the Order of the Candle.

The main building of the palace complex immediately ahead seemed rather large and elaborate, something like what a palace might be expected to look like. The main part of the structure featured a broad dome shaped roof. It didn't seem nearly as high as that tower of the temple, but the actual dome seemed much larger than any other one in view. It was notably wider, if not higher than that other tower. About the outside of that large structure, there were several towers with onion shaped bulbs at the top.

Outside the entrance to the palace, Karl stopped to speak with the guards stationed at that point. Their uniforms were different again. He assumed that it marked them as Palace Guard. Judging from the tensing of their postures and expressions, he figured that they didn't get a lot of Orcs coming by. He tried to affect a friendly grin.

"Uh, yeah, Karl gro-Baroth, with the Fighters Guild. I'm here to see the Imperial Consul."

Both Redguard glared at him with suspicion and contempt. After a lengthy pause, the one on the right spoke up, demanding to see his papers. Karl's documents identified him as second-in-charge of the Fighters Guild at Chorrol. The palace guard remained unimpressed, but satisfied enough to accept his identity. He was directed to proceed through the entrance and speak with the guards just inside.

Just inside the main palace building, he needed to repeat that process with the guards stationed near the internal doors. They appeared just as suspicious as the ones stationed outside. He supposed that he couldn't really fault them for their manner. After all, an Orc from Orsinium might be a whole different kind of trouble.

After consulting with the other guard, one of those guards advised that he would escort him directly to the Consulate Office.

The Redguard led him through the broad open area, then down a side corridor off to the right. Further along, he led him through a door and directed him to the bench seats long the wall. The guard disappeared briefly through another door, before returning and instructing him to remain there until he was attended.

Karl just waited quietly for a short while. That gave him a bit of a moment to think on things.

The brief interactions with those guards served to highlight that Orcs weren't real welcome in Sentinel. He'd never really encountered much of that back in Cyrodiil. Not quite like that. Not even in Rihad. He was hoping that the Imperial Consul was of a mind to be cooperative. Otherwise, things were likely get real difficult.

Before too long, the door opened and a slim Redguard man came out to see him. After raising his eyebrows in mild surprise, the stranger offered a friendly expression.

He introduced himself in a courteous fashion. "Good day to you. I am Ramus, assistant to Tertius Cipius." He offered his hand in greeting.

Karl took his hand awkwardly. He was expecting something different. "Uh, yeah, Karl gro-Baroth, with the Fighters Guild. I got me papers, right here." He handed over his documentation.

Ramus perused the papers briefly. "Yes, I was told that someone from the Fighters Guild was here. I did not realise it would be you."

Karl returned a questioning glance.

"You are the Karl gro-Baroth out of Chorrol. Still serving as the acting head of the Fighters Guild, I take it?"

"Well, yeah. For the moment." Karl recalled something that Monika had previously mentioned. According to what Forester had told her, that Redguard assistant might be working for the Penitus Oculatus. They didn't know it for a fact, but it wouldn't be all that surprising if it were true.

"I take it that you are planning to arrange a meeting with the Imperial Consul?" Ramus prompted.

"Well, yeah. That's the idea."

Ramus indicated the open doorway that he came through. "Please, if you will step into the outer office, I will see if I can help."

Karl nodded and followed the Redguard through into the office.

Ramus briefly examined an open ledger on his desk. "Am I to assume that this is about the Fighters Guild members currently stationed in Sentinel with the Legion?"

"That's right." Karl confirmed. He was getting the impression that the assistant to the Consul was remarkably well informed. That did serve to make him think that he might actually be Penitus Oculatus or working for someone who was. Not that he thought it really mattered either way. It didn't really affect what he was planning. Not as far as he could tell.

Karl proceeded to provide a brief outline of his intent to petition for a proper Guildhall in the city. He expressed his belief that the Consul would probably be the best person to negotiate that outcome. Ramus didn't seem at all surprised about any of it. In a measured fashion, he agreed with Karl's suggestions.

After referring to his ledger again, Ramus returned his gaze to the visitor. "I am afraid that the Imperial Consul will be occupied with meetings and other important matters for the rest of the day. However, I can arrange an appointment for you tomorrow morning at nine. If that is agreeable?"

Karl returned a mild grin. "Yeah, I reckon that's fine."

Ramus smiled pleasantly and nodded. "Then we shall you see here tomorrow morning." He paused. "If I may be so bold, I might recommend that you do not bring your weapon with you. I would expect that it only serves to antagonise the Palace Guard."

Karl nodded with a mild frown. "Yeah, awright." He turned away and departed.

* * *

><p>Karl returned directly along the path that he'd taken to the Consulate Office. He did his best to ignore the disdainful glances of the Palace Guards on his way back out of the palace complex and central district of Sentinel.<p>

He soon found himself back in the High District of the city. By that time, the day had grown uncomfortably warm. From the position of the sun, it looked like it was just a little after noon. A mild rumbling from his belly reminded him that he hadn't really eaten anything.

He briefly considered returning directly to the Seaview, then decided to head for the market district instead, since it was more or less just ahead.

Just past the archway that divided the two districts, an old Redguard beggar got up from a crate beside a tavern. The old man appeared to briefly consider approaching Karl then changed his mind and turned away. That seemed just a bit odd. The beggars of the Imperial City were far more bold than that, even more so with obvious strangers, regardless of size or general demeanour.

Karl paused a moment to get his bearings. The main street of the marketplace ran from the top of the hill above the harbour, right down to the bottom end near one of the city's lower gates. He recalled that district was named with a traditional Redguard word. It was called the Ra Gada Plaza.

The marketplace of Sentinel appeared relatively crowded. It was probably typical for that time of day. It might have also been something to do with it being a Sundas.

Most of the people in view were Redguard. He did spot a couple of Dunmer and a few Bretons. Some of the women in the street might have been Imperial or Nord or of mixed heritage. It was hard to tell.

Responding to his grumbling belly, he headed for the open market stalls near the fountain in the middle of the plaza. The vendors offered a broad variety of fresh foods and other things. After a brief perusal, he settled for something from one of the stalls. It was some sort of meat and vegetable on a stick. He wasn't sure what it was, but it smelled inviting enough.

He'd noticed that the Redguard woman at the stall hadn't been particularly friendly or accommodating. She took his gold, but said very little and avoided direct eye contact.

At least that food on the stick tasted as good as it smelled. Looking about the street, he soon noticed the suspicious looks that he received from various passers by, especially the Redguard. He also noticed that the City Guard of the marketplace seemed to be watching him closely. Probably more closely than they observed the few beggars along the street.

With a sigh, he decided to head back to the Seaview. He still had a few things to think about and he figured that might pass more easily away from the distractions of the marketplace. Added to that, it was feeling a bit too warm to be standing about in the sun.

* * *

><p>Soon enough, he was back at the Seaview Inn. In contrast to the faces on the street, that young Redguard woman behind the main counter offered a friendly smile. He returned a friendly nod. He didn't really want to get tangled up in a discussion with Hodge, so he headed on up to his rented room.<p>

Upstairs, Karl set aside his battleaxe and shed his armour. With the windows open, it was a bit cooler up there, but still a little warm for his liking.

He sat down and started thinking about some of the things that Broder had told him about Sentinel. He gained the general impression that the ruler of the city didn't care much for Imperial influenced outsiders. It seemed that he tolerated their presence in regional matters, but tried to keep their operational influence mostly outside the city walls. He didn't really think that should be a problem for the Fighters Guild, since most of what they do takes place outside of a main city. Most of it, anyway.

Karl briefly pondered whether Ceno would actually be up to running operations in a proper Guildhall. He supposed that he wouldn't really have much idea of that until he met with him. Even then, it might be hard to tell.

After all, he wouldn't have pegged Montrose as someone suited to serving as his second, until just recently. In passing, he hoped that the Breton hadn't messed anything up while he was away.

He certainly trusted Northwind to keep an eye on Montrose and keep the lower ranked Fighters in line. However, Nonius and Varro could still have made things difficult. Neither of them actually wanted the leadership position, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't test Montrose's authority in his absence.

Still, there was nothing he could do about any of that now. He'd just have to trust his people to get along and do what they were supposed to do.

Karl's thoughts again drifted further from the matters at hand. He found himself thinking of the notion that he might have another brother living somewhere near Wayrest. Of course, he had nothing much to go on but a name that represented something that seemed like more than coincidence. He again questioned the sense of even looking in to it. Monika's suggestion to visit the Guildhall in Wayrest still seemed sensible, but his other reason for going there seemed more foolish.

He again started thinking about the older brothers that he came to know, back in those early days in Chorrol when he was just a boy. After that initial awkwardness of their first meetings, Kurz and Lum had soon started to warm to the idea of having a younger brother.

Actually, it took a bit longer to recognise that with Kurz. Warmth wasn't exactly in his nature. He seemed stern, serious and somewhat protective. In his own way, that was about as warm as his eldest brother ever got.

On the other hand, Lum became fairly friendly almost right away. He seemed quite taken with the idea of having a younger brother. He'd even taken to Fairbeard. By his reckoning, if Baroth held him in such high regard that he'd name his son after him, then that practically made him blood-kin.

Karl recalled something else that Lum had said many times that stuck with him. He'd often say, "Blood was family and the sons of Baroth should stand together."

Though he saw his older brothers often enough, they didn't all reside under the same roof during those earlier years. Since Kurz and Lum lived in the Guildhall, Karl couldn't stay with them. Kurz had said that it was no place for children. Karl recalled that his oldest brother actually said that a lot.

Fairly early on, Fairbeard and Karl had moved into a small wooden house in the West District of Chorrol. It was one of three houses owned by Modryn Oreyn, the Dunmer Guild Master. Karl didn't know the details, but he expected that Fairbeard paid very little for the lodgings.

At first, Fairbeard had managed to acquire some sporadic work with the trade wagons travelling to and from Chorrol. That would change later.

Karl's life soon came to reflect some sort of normality, such as it was. Some things were more to his liking than others. They had a roof over their heads. It wasn't the best of places, but it was clean enough and they never went hungry.

Five days a week, he attended schooling at the temple. At the time, he thought it seemed like more of a punishment than a kindness.

Whenever it was possible, he would head straight from the temple after schooling to pass late afternoons behind the Guildhall with Lum. His brother took great interest in teaching him how to fire arrows and swing a small mace.

At the time, Karl thought that it was secret between Lum and himself. He later learned that Fairbeard and Kurz knew all about it. Even Modryn Oreyn knew about it.

During that time, Karl had heard something of the troubles that plagued other parts of Cyrodiil, but most of it seemed far away. For the most part, Chorrol had remained fairly peaceful. At least within the city walls.

Since the assassination of Potentate Ocato, what remained of the Elder Council had floundered under unclear leadership. Both Bravil and Leyawiin stood apart from the rest of Cyrodiil. A general state of unrest was spreading across the land. It was still uncertain what might lie ahead. Eventually, those troubles would come to Chorrol, but not just yet.

Karl passed some time reminiscing over his childhood in Chorrol. His thoughts focussed upon the more pleasant aspects of those days.

* * *

><p>After a time, Karl suddenly realised that it was becoming dark in his upstairs rented room at the Seaview. He'd hardly noticed that the afternoon had passed him by and the sun had disappeared behind the buildings outside his window.<p>

Rousing himself, he got up and headed downstairs to the tavern to get something to eat. He didn't remain there all that long. Just long enough to fill his belly and pass a brief conversation with Hodge.

He'd mentioned that his meeting with Broder went well enough, but he'd yet to meet with any of the local Guild Fighters. He'd also mentioned that he wouldn't be able to meet with the Consul until the next morning.

Karl avoided speaking with Hodge for too long. He gained the impression that the Colovian innkeeper might have kept him talking for hours if he'd let him.

After leaving the tavern behind, he visiting the bathroom facilities then retired to his room for the evening. He planned for an early night, intending to rise early the next morning. He hoped that the meeting with the Imperial Consul would produce the desired outcome.

~O~


	12. Chapter 12

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 12

Morndas the 14th of Midyear 4E49

Karl gro-Baroth awoke early with the summer dawn. He didn't stir on his own. It was the squawking crow just outside his window that actually woke him. That was just as well, since he did want to be up and about early that morning. That comfortable bed might have easily lured him into sleeping late.

The big Orc got up and stretched, then went over to the window to send the noisy crow on its way. In an unintended fashion, the bird had served his purposes, but he really didn't want to hear any more of its raucous calls.

Gazing out the window, the dawn sky to the west looked clear. The morning air felt cool, but the sky already looked to carry the promise of another warm summer day ahead.

Karl headed off to make use of the bathroom facilities, then returned and dressed in his old iron armour. Since it was still fairly early, he sat down to think some more about how he planned to handle the meeting with the Imperial Consul.

He hoped that the Consul would be as accommodating as his Redguard assistant seemed. Of course, he hadn't even met the man yet, but he figured that he held some reasonable idea of what he might be like.

From what Northwind had told him, he expected that he was no different from others in similar positions. He sounded like he was one of those self-important types. The kind that was most interested in making himself look good in the eyes of his superiors back in Cyrodiil, as well as making himself appear valuable to the local ruling authority. Presumably, he was a diplomat of noble bloodline.

With that in mind, he expected that he'd need to play to the man's ego and make everything seem like it would be to his advantage. He supposed that it shouldn't be too hard, since it actually would be to his advantage if he was the one that appeared responsible for making it all happen.

It was common enough knowledge that the Emperor held the Fighters Guild in favour. Added to that, those recent events in Sentinel had served to put the Guild in a favourable position with the local ruler. It seemed like perfect timing for what he had in mind. It just needed the proper nudge in the proper fashion.

Karl remained sitting there and thought on all of that for a bit longer.

* * *

><p>After a while, Karl decided to head on downstairs to see if he could get something to eat, before it got too late. Taking the advice of the Consul's assistant, he left his battleaxe behind in his room.<p>

Arriving at the main tavern area, Karl noticed that Hodge was already milling about the front counter, tidying things. He figured that it was probably too early for that Redguard woman that worked for him.

Karl approached the service counter with a friendly expression. "Is it too early to get something from the kitchen?"

"Not at all." The Colovian innkeeper returned.

"I'm probably just after a bread roll and some of that tea. If ya got it?"

"I'm sure I can manage that." Hodge smiled lightly, then nodded toward the tables by the southern wall. "There's someone here to see you. He's one of the Guild Fighters from the garrison."

Karl turned about to see an armoured Imperial man seated at a table. He was the only patron in the tavern. He seemed a slightly smaller man of solid build. Aside from the large bald patch that marred his cropped head of dark hair, he looked to be an Imperial of fairly typical features. He might have been about the same age as Captain Broder.

Hodge spoke up. "I can bring over your food, when it's ready."

"Yeah, sounds good." Karl handed over some coin, then headed over to the visitor.

The other Guild Fighter rose from his seat at Karl's approach.

"Karl gro-Baroth." The Orc extended his hand in greeting.

"Corvus Ceno." The Imperial man responded.

"Yeah, pleasure ta meet ya."

"We actually met before. About ten years back."

Karl returned a confused expression as they both took their seats. "Sorry, don't remember that. Was that in Rihad?"

"No. I was just passing through Chorrol. You'd only just taken the role as second."

Karl nodded. He still didn't recall him. "Where're you from? Before Rihad?"

Ceno shrugged mildly. "I was originally from Bravil, but I wanted to get away from that place. Go somewhere better."

Karl grunted. "You wouldn't be the first."

Ceno continued. "I was originally hoping to find a place over at Anvil's Guildhall, but that didn't work out. I eventually ended up with Rihad. Razaal was still second, back then."

"Yeah, I know Razaal. We both trained under Azzan."

Ceno nodded. "That was before my time. Well, before I headed west."

Hodge interrupted, arriving with Karl's spicy bread roll and tea. Ceno declined anything, having already eaten not long before.

As Karl sipped his tea, Ceno spoke. "Captain Broder said you wanted to see me. He mentioned that you haven't taken over as Guild Master yet."

"Not yet. Still acting Guild Master. Might change that, once I get back to Chorrol. We'll see." Karl took a quick bite of his roll, appearing satisfied with the taste.

Remaining silent, Ceno returned an expectant gaze, clearly curious of what the acting head of Chorrol might want of him.

After a prolonged pause, Karl responded. "Can't talk too long this morning. Gotta go over ta see the Consul soon. Still, I can give you a bit of a heads up." He paused again to sip the tea. "I'm plannin' to try an' get a proper Guildhall set up here in Sentinel, 'stead of this temporary arrangement."

Ceno silently nodded.

Karl continued. "If things go right, the Guildhall is gonna need a Guildhead."

"You're planning to send over someone to serve as Guildhead?"

Karl finished chewing on another bite from his roll. "Not necessarily. You up for it?"

"Guildhead?" Ceno seemed suitably surprised.

Karl shrugged. "Someone's gotta do it."

Ceno shook his head slightly. "I've been serving as field leader here in Sentinel, but only because…" He trailed off.

"Well, ya got seniority here."

Ceno blinked with raised eyebrows. "Well, yes. I made eighth rank, just last year, but…" He gestured absently with his hand.

"Yeah well, way I see it… you don't make eighth rank 'less yer good enough. An' if ya made it to eight, yer probably gonna make it to nine."

Ceno didn't look quite so convinced.

Karl waved his diminished bread roll. "Look, lotsa Guildhall seconds are eighth rank, an' that's only one accident shorta bein' in charge, so it seems." He paused. "In this case, mighta been better if you was Redguard, but those other two ain't experienced enough. It's just a matter of if you are up for it. Well, there's actually a bit more to the rest of it, but that's all you gotta worry about, for now."

With a thoughtful expression, Ceno watched the Orc chew on the remainder of his bread roll and reach for his tea. "Well, I do have experience with leading other Guild Fighters, but that's mostly in the field. I've never even served as a second and I expect there's a lot more to running a Guildhall."

"Well yeah, there is. That stuff can be learned along the way. Most of it's just a general pain-in-the-arse. Managin' paperwork and stuff. It's leadership qualities that really count."

Ceno nodded his understanding, then paused on another thought. "What does Razaal think about this?"

Karl shrugged mildly. "He knows what I'm plannin'. That ain't no problem."

Ceno still looked to be struggling with his thoughts.

Karl finished his tea before speaking again. "Yeah well, you think on it."

"I will." The Imperial man agreed.

Karl started to get up from his seat. "I gotta go see the Consul. See if I can make any of this fly." He paused a moment. "If ya gonna be at the garrison, I might head over there later today. I wanna see the other Guild Fighters anyway."

Ceno returned a curt nod. "Of course."

Karl left him sitting there. He returned his plate and mug to the main counter, before heading out of the Seaview Inn.

* * *

><p>Karl heard the temple bells ringing behind him as he approached the archway to the central district of Sentinel. As in other cities back east, he figured that the bells marked the hour of eight, the start of the business day. That meant that he still had plenty of time to make it to the Consul's office on time.<p>

After negotiating with the City Guard by the archway, he made his way across the open space to the main Palace complex. He then needed to repeat that negotiation process with the Palace Guards, before being escorted to the Imperial Consulate Office.

He needed to wait just a short while before Ramus came out to greet him in a pleasant fashion. The manner of the Consul's assistant again stood in stark contrast to that of the other Redguard that he encountered along the way to that office.

After disappearing briefly to check with the Consul, Ramus returned and then led Karl through the outer office. The Redguard assistant took him directly into an inner office and left him with his superior.

The Imperial Consul looked to be a Nibenese man of mild stature. At a glance, he seemed to be in his forties. His dark hair parted to make way for a sizeable bald patch upon the top of his head. Otherwise, his appearance was not terribly notable.

The Imperial man rose from behind his large desk, maintaining a serious expression. "Tertius Cipius, Imperial Consul." He extended his hand in greeting.

Karl responded accordingly. "Karl gro-Baroth, acting head of the Fighters Guild."

"It is a pleasure to meet you." Cipius gestured, indicating that they should sit.

"Yeah, likewise." Karl agreed, taking his seat.

The Consul affected a businesslike smile, then proceeded to paraphrase what his assistant had already told him of the reason for Karl's presence in Sentinel. He seemed to have a handle on the broad details. Karl suggested as much.

As an opening to further explaining his reasons for the meeting, Karl went on to indicate that he understood that the ruler of Sentinel would be unlikely to take to dealing with an Orcish Guild leader. Cipius indicated his agreement with that sentiment in a dispassionate manner.

Karl suggested that he thought the best way to get things done was with the support of Imperial representation. He indicated his opinion that the time was right to petition Sentinel's ruler for a proper Guild presence in the city. From his understanding, the Emperor also favoured the operation of the Imperial sponsored Fighters Guild in regional areas.

The Consul seemed to understand the inference. He required no extra prompting to recognise the opportunity. It was also obvious to him that he was best placed to take advantage of that opportunity. He gave direct voice to that understanding, indicating his willingness to consider negotiation on behalf of the Guild.

Cipius invited Karl to go into further detail of the specifics. He took up his quill, prepared to make some notes.

Karl went on to outline some of the details of his proposal. Provided that he gained proper authorisation to proceed, the local Fighters Guild would start with just the four currently posted to Sentinel. The preferred intention to gradually grow with suitable recruits from the local area as they became available.

Cipius noted that starting with those two Redguard Guild Fighters, along with the intent to recruit locally, would probably go some way toward alleviating any concern of foreigners undermining local interests.

Karl continued. He indicated that the local Guild presence should operate as per the Guild's charter and guidelines, as it did in other localities. Accepting contracts from the local authorities but still reporting to the Guild Master in the head office at Chorrol.

The Consul didn't seem to think that would be any cause for dispute. After all, that circumstance was well established by historical precedent. It was only a matter of the Fighters Guild in Sentinel returning to the previous state of affairs that it enjoyed during the years of the Septim Dynasty.

Cipius raised the issue of whether the Guild would continue to operate out of the same space as the Legion, or whether Karl held something else in mind.

Karl volunteered some of what he'd already discussed with Captain Broder. The Legion captain had suggested that the existing garrison might make an ideal Guildhall, once it was vacated and provided that the right people agreed to it.

Cipius seemed to understand what that might involve. He suggested that provided the King of Sentinel agreed to the proposal, there should be no problem at all in negotiating that outcome with the Legion. He expected that the building might be either sold or gifted to the Guild. Of course, he imagined that the land would remain the property of Sentinel, but he anticipated that it would likely be a simple matter to negotiate the transfer of leasing under the same arrangement.

During the course of their discussion, Karl's general opinion of the Cipius had shifted quite a bit. Before that time, he'd thought that the Consul might have just been some privileged idiot noble. He still figured that he was probably a privileged noble, but maybe not such an idiot.

After clarifying a few more points, the Consul suggested that he thought he had enough to commence negotiations. He advised Karl that he was already scheduled for a meeting with the King's steward later that afternoon. He expected that he could raise the relevant issues at that time. However, he suggested that it could easily be more than a few days before there would be any clear indication of how things might progress.

Karl accepted that the meeting had drawn to a natural conclusion as Cipius began to stack his notes in a neat pile. After an exchange of businesslike farewells, Karl rose to leave the Consul's office.

Just outside in the outer office, an old Dunmer was speaking with Ramus and waiting to meet with Cipius. The Consul had waved the visitor in before the assistant had the opportunity to seek his approval.

Ramus intercepted Karl before he passed by. "I trust that your meeting with the Consul passed to your satisfaction?" He prompted.

"Well yeah, I think so." Karl actually sounded a little surprised.

"I take it that he will be negotiating on behalf of the Fighters Guild?"

"Ah, yeah." Karl again wondered if the Redguard was so well informed just because he was the Consul's assistant, or because he was an agent of the Penitus Oculatus. He tried to put that aside. "Is he any good at that sort of thing?"

Ramus affected a confident expression. "I can assure that the Consul is uniquely suited to the specifics of such tasks. In certain circles, he is renowned as a cunning linguist and a master of negotiation."

Karl blinked with an odd expression. He wasn't sure exactly what he meant. An old Imperial vulgarity came to mind. He figured that the Redguard meant something else entirely.

Ramus clarified. "That is to say, Tertius Cipius is a master of many tongues, including traditional Yokudan dialects, among others. Of course, negotiations will be conducted in the Imperial tongue, but an understanding of local tradition and the older tongues serve to manage more favourable outcomes in such matters."

Karl nodded and grunted his understanding.

Ramus continued to elaborate further. "Immediately before his posting to Sentinel, the Consul assisted Crown Prince Attrebus in his negotiations with the northern principalities of Elsweyr. I might suggest that the mediation of treaties with Khajiiti rulers would have been far more difficult."

"Yeah, I s'pose that sounds right."

Ramus offered a courteous nod. "I am sure that the matter is in good hands."

Karl returned a more awkward nod, then made his way back out the way he came.

* * *

><p>In a fairly direct fashion, Karl marched all the way from the Consulate Office back to the High District without really noticing anything or anyone along the path in any detail. The Palace Guard probably took far more note of him, but didn't challenge his passage.<p>

He'd remained lost in thought until he passed the City Guard by the archway that marked the line between the two districts. He was still going over that meeting in his head, as well as that brief conversation with Ramus.

Karl's estimation of Cipius had just about settled into something that resembled fair confidence. The man did actually seem like he could manage the task. Of course, that was provided that there wasn't any unknown obstacle or objection that they didn't know about. He was even fine with the Imperial Consul taking the credit for organising the Fighters Guild in Sentinel, just so long as the job got done.

Without even thinking about it, he'd suddenly realised that he'd been heading for the Seaview Inn. He was nearly back there by the time that he remembered that he'd been planning to go over to the Legion house in the Foreign Quarter.

From the look of the sun, the day must have passed the mid-morning mark and was headed toward midday. From the feel of it, the promise of a warm day was certainly being met. It was starting to feel a bit hot already and there wasn't any breeze to talk about. He supposed it could have been worse. There could have been a hot wind coming down off the eastern desert.

Karl continued onward past the Seaview Inn and up the hill toward the Temple District of the city. There were a few people out on the streets, but it wasn't all that crowded. He figured that most had already gotten wherever they were going. The marketplace was probably a lot more crowded.

The streets of the Northpoint District seemed even more empty. He did spot an old Redguard man sitting in the shade of the awning in front of a small ale-house and a couple of women heading into the nearby general store. Otherwise, those streets seemed just about deserted.

Soon enough, he was marching down the main street through the Foreign Quarter toward the Legion garrison. The sweat was starting to bead and trickle from his forehead as he stepped into that place.

Just as the last time he'd been there, the entryway seemed unattended. He thought he could hear the low murmur of voices from somewhere inside.

He figured he ought to announce himself. "Anyone there?"

The noise of the legs of a chair scraping on the wooden floor preceded the arrival of a young female Legion soldier from the hall off to the left. She looked to be Imperial. Perhaps, not that much older than young Vinnus Odiil. She looked to the big Orc with a curious expression.

"Karl gro-Baroth, Fighters Guild." He declared himself.

"Oh." She nodded her understanding. "Captain Broder is out at the moment."

"Doesn't matter. I'm here to see Ceno and the other Guild Fighters."

The soldier narrowed her eyes. "I think they're here. I'll go check."

Before Karl had a chance to respond, she dashed off, leaving him standing there by the doorway. He didn't have to wait long at all. The soldier returned as quickly as she left, almost bumping into him as she came back.

"Yes, Ceno and the others are in the main hall. I can take you straight through."

"Sounds good." Karl flashed lower tusks with a friendly smile.

The young soldier led him through into the common area. After pointing toward Ceno, she then dashed off again back to wherever she'd come from.

Ceno was sitting at a table with a Redguard woman near the middle of the open area. She had to be Taimar. He vaguely recalled having seen her before at Skingrad, but he didn't really know her.

The other two were sitting a bit further away, going over some parchments laid out on the table. One was a heavy-set Nord, the other a slim Redguard. He couldn't remember having met either of them before.

Ceno rose to meet the visitor. The Redguard woman looked on with interest.

The smaller Imperial man offered his hand in greeting. "Good to see you again."

"Yeah, likewise." Karl returned.

"I expect you'll be wanting to see the others?"

"Yeah."

Taimar was already rising from her seat to come over.

"Bjorn, Dorian." Ceno prompted the other two.

"Taimar." The Redguard woman offered her hand.

"Karl gro-Baroth." The Orc responded. "Reckon I mighta seen you back in Skingrad once or twice."

"Probably." Taimar agreed. "But I don't think we'd been properly introduced."

They were interrupted by the Nord. "Name's Bjorn. It's an honour to meet you." He offered his hand with an enthusiastic grin.

Karl responded accordingly. Bjorn was a large bulky Nord with bushy reddish hair and a bushy beard of the same colour. He was probably a bit younger than his rugged features implied. He didn't seem quite as boisterous as Frederick the Loud, but he hardly seemed timid.

The Redguard man held back briefly before also making Karl's acquaintance. In contrast to the Nord, Dorian seemed rather reserved. He was tall and slim, but broad shouldered. His features were typically Redguard, though his colouring was slightly lighter than some.

During the conversations that followed, Karl got the impression that Ceno hadn't yet told the others much of anything. With that in mind, he held off mentioning his offer to Ceno from earlier that morning. Instead, he offered a more general outline of what he was up to.

Karl went on to explain his intent to organise a more permanent Guild presence in Sentinel. He suggested that would also mean a proper Guildhall, maybe even getting a hold of that Legion house, once they moved out into that new one they were building.

He told them that he had the Imperial Consul negotiating on behalf of the Fighters Guild, but it was all still up in the air.

Karl advised them that until anything was worked out, everything would just be business as usual. They'd just keep operating out of the Legion garrison with Ceno as field leader. They'd keep working with Captain Broder and sending reports back to Razaal in Rihad.

Karl already had a fair idea of Ceno's thoughts. He gained the impression that Taimar seemed to like what she was hearing. Bjorn appeared openly enthusiastic. Dorian seemed a bit harder to read. Though outwardly agreeable, it looked like he might have been a bit less excited about leaving Rihad behind on a permanent basis.

After a little more back and forth between Karl and the other Guild Fighters, the big Orc took Ceno aside for another more private discussion.

Karl started off by steering the topic of discussion toward Ceno's appraisal of the other three. The Imperial man suggested that all three of them were perfectly competent and worked well together.

Ceno knew that Taimar was right behind the idea of a proper Fighters Guild presence in Sentinel. She'd been saying as much ever since Forester and the others had left a couple of months earlier. She'd even had the idea that if there was a proper Guildhall, there might be opportunity for her brother to come and work for the Guild as the smith, instead of working for that shabby outfit down by the main city gates.

By Ceno's reckoning, Bjorn was an open book. The big Nord had warmed up to the idea of staying in Sentinel quite some time back. He'd liked working out of Rihad, but he seemed to have gained a firm liking for Sentinel. It was a fair assumption that Bjorn would be right behind setting up a new Guildhall.

Ceno conceded that Dorian might still need some persuasion. He'd been happy serving under Razaal in Rihad and was probably still expecting to go back there. It was too early to tell, but Ceno felt confident that he'd come around in time.

Without trying to sound too pushy, Karl directed the topic toward the matter of the position of local Guildhead. Ceno indicated that he was still considering it. He assumed that there would be time before that became an urgent matter, and obviously, he would continue to serve as field leader for the time being.

Karl agreed that there was still plenty of time before any decision had to be made. It was still up in the air as to whether everything would go ahead as he planned.

Even so, Karl went on to outline some of the things that Ceno would need to know about if he took on the position of local Guildhead. He suggested that a lot of it was pretty much just like operating as field leader, but with a lot more paperwork and reports.

Ceno seemed to wave that off, indicating that he'd already had a taste of that with the regular reports that he needed to send back to Razaal.

Karl tried not to make it seem any worse, but conceded that he could expect a lot more of that stuff as time went on. Added to that, the more people that a Guildhead has to manage, the more the paperwork usually stacks up.

Karl mentioned a few other considerations. He conceded that he didn't know exactly how things might work in Sentinel, but he indicated that the position generally involved some customary brown-nosing with the local authorities, whether you liked them or not. That just comes with the territory.

As time goes on, most Guildheads find themselves spending a lot more time in the Guildhall and a lot less time out in the field. That might be a gradual shift, but it usually ends up that way. Especially once there's more Fighters in the Guildhall.

That led onto discussing the matter of recruitment. Karl explained that part of the proposal being negotiated by the Consul would indicate that the Fighters Guild would try to expand with recruits from the local region. Ceno easily agreed that it made sense.

Karl also mentioned the matter of his second. If things went ahead, Ceno would need to select someone to serve as second-in-charge. That person would probably end up covering a lot of the field leader work as well as needing to be across some of the documentation.

Ceno seemed to think that if he had to choose from the other three, then Taimar was probably the most capable. He wasn't sure how Bjorn would feel about it, but he was easily a better follower than a leader.

Karl advised him that it would be left up to him, if he took the job. Of course, that still depended on things actually going ahead.

After some further discussion, it seemed as though they'd just about exhausted the topics that came to mind. Ceno certainly looked like a man with a lot to think about. Karl called an end to it, deciding to leave the Legion house behind.

* * *

><p>Karl took note of the position of the sun as he made his way back up through the Foreign Quarter. He hadn't realised just how long he'd been talking with those other Guild Fighters in the Legion garrison. It had to be going on mid afternoon or a bit later, though the heat made it feel more like midday. There still wasn't much of a breeze.<p>

As he walked, he thought about the things he'd set in motion that day. He'd decided he was feeling confident that Ceno might well make a reasonable Guildhead. That was provided that he actually agreed to the offer.

Of course, even that was still dependent upon the Consul's negotiation skills. He did realise that it could all fall flat on its face or else face ridiculous delays. Without ignoring that possibility, he tried to remain positive. Even then, he still felt some frustration over not having more direct involvement, but that was what seemed like the best way forward.

He'd already started thinking that it was going to take at least a few days before he knew anything at all. That circumstance only added to his sense of frustration. Still, there was nothing more that he could about that just yet. He'd just have to wait and see.

It was just then that he came to a tenuous decision. He decided that if he didn't know anything in a couple of days, then he might look into heading up to Wayrest for a few days. At least he'd feel like he was doing something useful while he waited.

After that, once he got back from Wayrest, he could follow up on things and deal with whatever outcome came to light.

He'd hardly noticed anything or anyone along the way as he passed through the Northpoint and Temple Districts on his way back to the High District. By the time he arrived at the Seaview Inn, he was sweating like he'd just finished a long workout in the training room.

The tavern area of the inn felt immediately cooler than outside. Those stone walls seemed to do a fair job of keeping the heat of the day at bay.

There were just a few patrons in the tavern that afternoon. It looked like the usual smattering of local Bretons and Dunmer that he'd observed in there the previous days. They seemed to keep to their own groups on either side of the tavern.

That young Redguard woman, Tallie, was tending the main service counter. She didn't look all that busy and she didn't seem to mind.

Though he was starting to feel hungry, Karl decided to head on upstairs to clean up and cool off. After visiting the bathroom and returning to his rented room, he shed his armour and dressed in his plain clothes.

Sitting by the open windows, he'd noticed that it was starting to feel a bit cooler as the sun descended toward the western horizon. There was just a hint of a light breeze coming off the bay. It wasn't much, but it made a difference. After a short while, he decided to head back downstairs to get something to eat, staying well ahead of the evening rush.

Karl organised some food and drink with Tallie. She wasn't nearly as talkative as the man that owned the place, but she was perfectly pleasant.

As he waited, Karl took a seat at a table near the middle of the tavern. Since it was relatively empty space, he took it as neutral territory. He'd gained the impression that neither the Breton nor Dunmer patrons really wanted a strange Orc sitting nearby.

After a fairly brief wait, Hodge emerged from the back to personally deliver Karl's meal. As expected, the Colovian innkeeper seemed keen to have a bit of a chat.

The conversation was mercifully short. Hodge had asked whether things had gone well. Karl suggested that things were set in motion, but it was too early to tell how it would all play out. He seemed confident that the local Guild Fighters would be up for it, but it was all in the hands of the Imperial Consul to push things forward, however long that might take. Hodge had withdrawn fairly quickly, indicating that Karl should get into his meal while it was still hot.

From what Karl heard previously from Northwind and Pinewatch, and what he'd seen for himself, he just took Hodge for a genuinely friendly type of retired soldier. Still, he figured that the man might make a perfect informant for the Penitus Oculatus if those spectres thought he knew of anything useful. He tossed that idle thought aside as he tucked into his meal. He didn't know what kind of soldier Hodge had been, but he was a good cook.

A few more locals had come into the tavern as Karl finished with his meal. By the time he'd drained his ale, he wasn't really feeling like sitting about in a crowded tavern. Not that it was so crowded yet, but he expected that it soon would be. He soon headed back upstairs to visit the bathroom again, then return to his room.

Darkness had just fallen over Sentinel as he sat down by the windows. The fading glow of the setting sun had given way to the twinkling stars in the western sky. Even though he was half way across Tamriel, they were still the same stars. He figured that it was probably a bit later than it looked, since the days were much longer with the summer solstice not too far off.

With nothing much else to do, he'd idly planned for an early evening, but his thoughts managed to keep him from that intent for quite a while. He was still going over things in his head after more than an hour had passed by.

Much of it was fairly redundant at that point. He'd already said what needed to be said and it was pretty much out of his hands. He just needed to wait to see where the arrows landed. That was the most frustrating part of it.

Eventually, he migrated from sitting by the windows over to that comfortable bed, but sleep remained fairly elusive.

At some point, he'd realised that he'd forgotten to ask Ceno about those local Vigilants of Stendarr. From what he'd already heard, he figured that they didn't have all that much to do with the Fighters Guild people stationed in Sentinel. It wasn't like the situation back in Kvatch, or even in Cheydinhal. Still, he did mean talk about that.

He'd also meant to speak with Broder again, but the captain wasn't around when he was over at the garrison. He just added that to his list of things to do. He figured he'd have plenty of time for that anyway.

That thought reminded him that he really should plan out how he was going to make use of the time ahead. He'd already burned off more than two of the six weeks that he'd set aside to stall the Elder Council before announcing the decision that he'd just about settled on.

Whatever he managed to get done in the west, it was still going to take about a week to get back to Chorrol. He'd decided that it would be best if he headed off for Wayrest sooner rather than later. He figured that he really should get that out of the way, then get back to Sentinel as soon as he could. If he still didn't know how things were going to play out with setting up the local Fighters Guild, then he should just head back to Cyrodiil anyway.

Those thoughts continued to circle about in his head for a while, serving to keep him awake far longer than he intended. At some point he'd eventually fallen asleep. It was probably much later than he'd expected.

~O~


	13. Chapter 13

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 13

Tirdas the 15th of Midyear 4E49

The distant ringing of bells stirred Karl gro-Baroth from his slumber. He rolled over and sat up with a start, realising that he'd just heard the temple bells marking the hour of eight in the morning. He inwardly cursed himself for sleeping so late. In part, he blamed that comfortable bed, but accepted that it was really his own fault. Though he didn't need to be anywhere specific that morning, he wasn't going to get anything done by sleeping the morning away.

He yawned and stretched, then rushed off to the bathroom to attend to immediate matters. Returning to his rented room in the Seaview, he hurriedly dressed in his old iron armour without even thinking about it. There was no particular reason to be wearing that armour about town, but he'd put in on out of misplaced habit.

Still feeling slightly groggy from sleeping late, Karl left his room behind and headed downstairs for the tavern area of the inn. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he noticed that young Redguard woman was already tending the front counter. The place seemed otherwise empty that morning. He offered her a friendly smile in greeting.

Tallie spoke up right away. "Oh, I think Hodge wanted to see you." She turned her head toward the doorway to the back room. "Hodge?"

Just a brief moment passed before the Colovian man emerged from the doorway, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Oh, Karl. Good morning." He looked mildly flustered.

"Mornin'." Karl returned.

"A messenger came in here just a short while ago." Hodge reached under the counter. "He left this for you."

Karl accepted the sealed parchment with a curious expression. He opened it and read the message. A frown creased his bushy brow and he emitted a grunt.

"Trouble?" Hodge prompted.

Karl looked to the barkeep. His face conveyed an odd blend of surprise and suspicion. "Dunno. The Consul wants to see me this morning." The message was from Ramus, asking him to attend a briefing with the Consul at eleven sharp.

Hodge reflected the Orc's expression. "Already? Wonder what that means?"

"Yeah, dunno. Seems a bit soon. Could be real good or real bad, I s'pose." Karl shook his head. "S'pose I'll find out."

Hodge returned a sympathetic grimace.

Karl sighed. "Anyways, still got a bit of time before he wants me over there. Reckon I might look at gettin' somethin' ta eat first."

Hodge smiled mildly. "Well, I reckon I can help you with that."

They negotiated briefly and Karl took a seat at the nearest table to wait.

He recalled that the Consul had mentioned that he was meeting with one of the King's stewards the previous afternoon. He didn't think that anything would have been decided from just one meeting. He knew that those types never did anything quickly. Not unless there was some sort of standing order to flat out refuse something. That didn't fit with everything he'd heard so far. He figured that they probably just wanted more detail of something. Whatever it was, he'd just have to wait until he found out.

Hodge interrupted Karl's train of thought with the meal that he'd prepared. It was a light broth with a small bread roll. He savoured the mix of flavours, again marvelling at the innkeeper's cooking skill. It served to distract him from his immediate concerns.

After finishing his meal, Karl noted the bristles starting to form on his chin. A couple of days had passed since he'd attended to them. He decided to head back upstairs and shave before going over to meet with the Consul. After all, he still had plenty of time before that meeting.

* * *

><p>With enough time still ahead of him, Karl left the Seaview behind and headed off for the central district of Sentinel. It was already feeling fairly warm outside under the clear blue skies. Just like the day before, there wasn't much in the way of a breeze in the city.<p>

As he walked, he started thinking of summer days back in Chorrol. It wasn't like it didn't get hot during the height of the season. They certainly had their hot days in the east of Colovia. Still, even on the warmest days, there was always the chance of a cooler breeze coming down from the Jerall Mountains.

Soon enough, Karl had made his way past the various guards and had been escorted to the waiting area just outside the Consulate Offices. He'd arrived with plenty of time to spare. The brisk walk had left him feeling a little sweaty from the warm morning, but it was much cooler inside the stone walls of the palace complex. He welcomed the opportunity to just sit in the waiting room and cool off for a while.

As he waited, he started thinking about what the Consul might have to say. After a few moments, he tried to set that aside. There was no sense in worrying about what he didn't know. He'd know when he knew. Then he could concern himself with whatever that was.

Eventually, Ramus emerged from the outer office to greet Karl in his typically friendly fashion. He advised that the Consul should be ready to see him very shortly and invited him into the outer office area.

Ramus engaged Karl in some idle chat. Despite some mild prompting, the Redguard assistant managed to say very little. Karl expected that he knew much more than he said, but he seemed well practised in the art of saying nothing.

Soon enough, Ramus checked in with his superior, then led Karl through into the main office for the meeting.

Tertius Cipius was seated behind his large desk going over some notes. He invited Karl to take a seat. His expression revealed nothing obvious.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Karl made the effort to provoke something more directly. "Didn't expect ta be hearing from you so soon. That a good thing or bad thing?"

The Consul cleared his throat. "Well, I should say that nothing has been decided just yet. However, I would suggest that opening negotiations have gone quite well. The outlook appears quite favourable."

Karl remained silent. His expression conveyed his restrained expectation.

Cipius continued. He indicated that from first impressions, the King's steward seemed perfectly open to the broad details of the proposal.

According to the Consul, the steward had cautiously communicated the expectation that the King would find most of the specifics agreeable. He'd seemed especially enthusiastic of the intent to expand the Fighters Guild presence with more members from the local region. He did seem to hold a clear preference for more Redguard to be involved. That didn't come as much of a surprise.

The steward had also related his understanding that the King favoured a greater level of interaction and cooperation between the Fighters Guild, The Order of the Candle and the Legion in his territories. Of course, that also was already thought to be the case.

It also seemed that the notion of the current Legion garrison in the Foreign Quarter passing to the Fighters Guild would be acceptable. Of course, that would be dependent upon agreement with the Imperial Legion, but the steward appeared to think that the transfer of leasing arrangements should be equally acceptable.

Cipius advised that he'd picked up something of the undertone of the rivalry between Sentinel and Rihad during the discussions. Though Sentinel was the ruling capital of Hammerfell, it seemed that Rihad enjoyed a closer relationship with Imperial Cyrodiil under the current Emperor. Of course, that was partly due to its proximity. However, there was some perception that Rihad's relationship with the Imperial province served to undermine Sentinel's dominance in the region.

With that in mind, the Consul concluded that Sentinel's ruler was not perfectly comfortable with the appearance of Rihad's Guildhall standing as the most prominent Fighters Guild presence in Hammerfell. Karl wasn't all that surprised.

At a few points during the discussion, Karl's patience had been challenged by the Consul's overly wordy lingo, but he had no trouble following what he was getting at. He knew well enough that those types always talked like that. He'd just have to grin and bear it.

Eventually, Cipius summarised his final thoughts. "Even though I am quite confident of the outcome of negotiations, I would suggest that it might take several days before we see any clear indication of certainty. Even then, it may take much longer to bring it all to conclusion."

Karl released a mild sigh. "Yeah well, that's pretty much what I figured." He paused. "I been thinkin'. I been plannin' to head up to Wayrest to visit the Guildhall up there."

Cipius nodded thoughtfully. He seemed to understand the suggestion, if not the specific reasons.

Karl continued. "I reckon that might keep me busy for a few days. After that, I wanna head back here ta check in with you an' see how things are comin' along."

"Yes, of course." The Consul nodded again. "That should present no issue. I fully expect that I know everything that I need to know to proceed in your absence."

After just a few further comments, the discussion seemed to have run its course and they wrapped it up, exchanging brief farewells.

Ramus again engaged Karl in some friendly conversation before he left the Consulate Office behind. As before, the Redguard assistant managed to say nothing of particular consequence. Karl hadn't really expected anything different.

* * *

><p>Karl gro-Baroth made his way back through the central district of Sentinel and onto the streets of the High District. He paused a moment under the scorching midday sun. He'd already decided to head for the harbourside to look into making travel arrangements. Instead of going though the marketplace, he decided to follow the other path up past the Seaview Inn.<p>

Soon enough, he was walking down the path of the stepped hillside just above the harbour. Heading down toward the docks, he noticed the boats and ships in and around the harbour. Along with a few smaller fishing boats, he'd noticed two trade vessels at port. An Imperial Naval vessel was just leaving the harbour on its way out into the bay. There was another smaller vessel just a bit further out headed inbound. It looked like it might be another fishing boat.

He'd noted a mild hint of a breeze as he came down the hillside. The light wind seemed to be coming up the bay from the south. It was slightly more obvious by the time that he reached the docks, making it feel just a bit cooler by the water. He recalled that there was usually a lot more sea breeze about Anvil and Rihad. He wondered why Sentinel was different at that particular time. He figured that it had something to do with some local weather pattern that knew nothing about.

Nearing the main dock area, his attention was drawn toward the screeching gulls plaguing one of the fishing boats. Most of the flurry of activity on the docks seemed to be focussed upon that fishing boat and the trade vessel docked just nearby. It looked like the dock workers about each of those two vessels were struggling to keep out of the way of one another's activities. Both groups appeared to be in something of a rush.

Karl managed to get someone to tell him where he could look into booking passage on a vessel. He was directed to the warehouse at the northern end of the docks.

Inside the dockside warehouse, a slightly portly Breton man with a distinctive High Rock accent was busy haggling with a couple of Redguard men. They might have been local traders. He didn't pay that much attention. Only enough to see that the Breton ran the warehouse.

Once the two Redguard finally left, Karl approached the middle aged Breton behind the main counter.

"You the man ta see about bookin' passage on a ship?"

"You're in the right place. The name's Lewin Moorfield. I run this place."

"Karl gro-Baroth. I'm lookin' to get up to Wayrest."

Moorfield returned an odd look. "You don't sound like you're from anywhere around these parts."

"I'm from Cyrodiil, with the Fighters Guild."

Leaving it at that, the warehouse manager nodded slightly, looking down at his ledger. "It looks like you're in luck. One of the vessels at port is headed north and it's still taking on passengers."

"Sounds good. How soon?"

"Well, nobody is going anywhere tomorrow, of course."

Karl returned a blank expression.

"Tomorrow's the sixteenth." Moorfield explained.

Karl frowned.

"The sixteenth of Mid Year."

"Ah yeah, I'd forgotten all about that." He hadn't been thinking at all about the day for the Mid Year Celebration. Back in Cyrodiil, it was a holiday for pretty much everyone but the temples. It was also when the annual news of Imperial taxes was announced. It was fair to assume that it was pretty much the same on Iliac Bay.

Moorfield advised him that the Zenithar's Hammer had room for a passenger and that it was sailing at noon on Turdas. That should get him to the port of Wayrest by about the same time the next day. That suited Karl well enough, so he secured passage on the vessel, exchanging coin for papers.

After thanking Moorfield for his help, Karl left the dockside warehouse behind to head on back up to the main city.

* * *

><p>Without really thinking about it, Karl retraced his path back up the hillside to the High District and returned directly to the Seaview Inn. He'd already worked up a sweat again just walking from the harbourside.<p>

Some of the familiar faces were in the tavern area that afternoon, the usual Bretons over one side and the Dunmer on the other. Hodge didn't seem to be about, but Tallie was leaning on the main service counter.

Karl spoke briefly with the young Redguard woman, advising her that he'd be leaving Turdas morning and then made sure he was paid up for Middas. He intended to linger just long enough to quench his thirst with a light ale and grab an apple to take with him.

Just as he was finishing his ale, Hodge returned with a basket of freshly baked bread rolls in hand. Karl ended up repeated the story of his intent to leave Sentinel on Turdas morning to visit Wayrest. He also suggested that he planned to be back in a few days or so.

Responding to Hodge's interest, he indicated that the Imperial Consul just wanted to let him know that opening negotiations had gone well. It all appeared fairly favourable, but it was likely to take some time before it was sorted.

After that brief exchange with Hodge, Karl headed on upstairs to his rented room. He shed his armour for plain clothing and sat down by the open window. As he munched on his apple, he noted the vague hint of a breeze coming in through the window. Gazing outward over the roof of the building next door that obscured his clear view of the sea, he spotted a single lonely cloud drifting out over the bay. He watched as it slowly broke apart and dissipated. He took it as a sign that the clear and warm days would be continuing in Sentinel.

Again, Karl briefly thought about his earlier meeting with the Imperial Consul. He quickly decided that Cipius seemed to have it all well in hand. He supposed that it would probably just all go the way that they expected, unless there was something they didn't know about. Either way, he figured that he'd just have to wait and see.

The same pretty much went for Ceno and the others. Provided that the Consul was successful, he felt hopeful that Ceno would end up leading the local Guildhall, with Taimar serving as his second. All of that would just have to wait as well.

Since there was nothing much he could about any of that just yet, he tried to put it out of mind for the present moment.

Still looking out the window, he saw the pigeons suddenly scatter from the ledges of that building next door. They disappeared from view. He noticed a hawk of some kind circling high overheard. Presumably, that was what alarmed the pigeons.

The restricted view from his window hadn't provided all that much distraction. Despite his desire to put Fighters Guild matters from his mind, his thoughts still drifted off in that direction. After all, in one way or another, the Guild had been a part of his life ever since he'd first come to Chorrol. It all started when he was still just a boy, after he'd met with his two older half brothers, Kurz and Lum.

At that time, though Chorrol had seemed relatively peaceful and stable within those stone walls, there was a lot more going on further afield. Of course, Karl had heard bits of pieces of what was going on at the time, but it all seemed far away. He didn't really have much idea of what was coming in the years ahead.

Over those first two years in Chorrol, Karl's life had settled into a routine of sorts. He lived with Fairbeard in that small house that they rented. He attended schooling at the temple with the other children of the city. Whenever he could, he met with Lum out behind the Guildhall to learn the ways of the mace and shield.

Toward the end of that first period, Fairbeard had shifted from taking odd jobs with the trade wagons and the like to joining the Fighters Guild. Of course, joining the Guild hadn't been too difficult for him with the recommendation of both Kurz and Lum. Due to his previous experience, he moved from first rank to second in no time at all.

With the increasing level of bandits and other troublemakers on the move outside the city around that time, Chorrol's Fighters Guild was kept fairly busy.

Of course, Modryn Oreyn was the head of the Chorrol Guildhall back then. Karl got to know him just a little through his brothers and Fairbeard. He'd visited the older Dunmer in his home more than a few times. He'd even stayed with him sometimes when Fairbeard, Kurz and Lum were all out on Guild jobs at the same time.

Oreyn seemed to fancy himself a bit of an artist in his spare time. He had several paintings in various stages of completion about his house. Only a few of his works were actually completed.

The Dunmer Guild Master used to lament that he wasn't better at it, but he remained optimistic that he'd improve with time. Since Karl could hardly draw anything with a charcoal stick, he used to think that Oreyn's works looked pretty good to him.

Modryn Oreyn had served the Fighters Guild for many years, most of them in and around Chorrol. He'd been second-in-command under the Donton's and then served as second for the Champion of Cyrodiil, later taking over the head position after the Champion's unexpected disappearance. He'd been head of the Fighters Guild in Chorrol for more than five years by the time that Karl and Fairbeard came to that city.

Aside from the Guild Master, Guild Porter and the smith, there were another five active members with Chorrol's Guildhall at that time.

After years of service, Kurz had attained the level of eighth rank and acted as Oreyn's second. Since Lum had come and gone from active service so many times, he'd only achieved the status of fourth rank. Still, he was really no less skilled or experienced than his older brother. Just not so good at staying in the Guild full time when he was younger. That circumstance seemed to have changed since Karl had come to Chorrol.

Apart from Fairbeard, there were just two other active Fighters in the Chorrol Guildhall during that period. When he was still fairly young, Karl didn't really know either of them that well, but he knew a little bit about each of them.

One of them was an Altmer by the name of Honditar. He'd been a local hunter around Chorrol for years before he joined the Guild. He'd actually been with that Guildhall since the brief period that the Champion of Cyrodiil had been in charge of the Guild.

The other man was an Imperial called Vantus Prelius. He'd previously served at Leyawiin until that Guildhall ceased operation. He'd only come to Chorrol just a short time before Karl and Fairbeard arrived.

Some of his former comrades had sided with Leyawiin after the breakaway. A couple of them had relocated to Water's Edge to help with the situation there. They'd been effectively operating as mercenaries, helping to protect the traders coming from Rimmen down to the bay to meet merchant vessels docking at the small township.

Karl had often enough heard of the troubles beyond Chorrol from Fairbeard and his brothers and even from Oreyn, more so as time went on. His recollections were a broad mix of what he'd heard from them back then and the various things he'd learned since that time.

Since the time of Ocato's assassination, the friction between the southern counties of Cyrodiil and the rest of the land had grown steadily worse. With both Bravil and Leyawiin claiming independence from the rest of Cyrodiil, both of them were trouble. Though there wasn't an official state of war just yet, it was far from peaceful. The rulers of those counties were still sending representatives to meet with the Elder Council, but there was no real spirit of cooperation.

Those southern counties weren't the only source of concern. Karl recalled that there had been some trouble in Bruma around that time. Of course, he didn't much know about that place back then. He hadn't actually been there as a boy. All he really knew was that Bruma was home to a lot of Nords.

The first that he heard of the trouble in that northern county was when it was all over, after an uprising in Bruma was narrowly averted by Countess Carvain and her loyal forces.

Apparently, those troubles had been building since shortly after Ocato's death. The Nords of Bruma had always been generally content under the rule of the Septim Empire, accepting the descendants of Tiber Septim. The temple in the city was even dedicated to him in his ascended form as Talos.

The Nords of Bruma were even tenuously accepting of Ocato, since most of his efforts had been directed toward maintaining the legacy of the Septim dynasty.

However, the loss of Potentate Ocato had provoked a shift in attitude, giving rise to a public movement calling for Bruma to break away from Cyrodiil and join with the Nords of Skyrim.

Still, when it came to a head on the streets of Bruma, it was all over in less than a few days. The insurrection had been stopped before it had hardly started. It remained barely a footnote of the times in the greater scheme of things.

Things had changed markedly in the Imperial City by the thirteenth year of that new era. By then, it was no longer a place of safety. No longer representing the centre of Tamriel's most successful Empire. The seemingly unnatural storms that came up from Niben Bay and hovered over the Imperial Isle only added to the general sense of fear and discord that plagued the land. Many took it as a clear sign that the absence of an Emperor in the Imperial Tower had upset the natural order of things.

Around that time, people had already coined the term, The Stormcrown Interregnum, making common reference to it being a period with no descendant of Talos Stormcrown on the Ruby Throne as Emperor. Of course, that also harkened back to that dark period of the second era, historically referred to more simply as The Interregnum.

The Elder Council remained slow to act with any decisiveness. Reportedly, there'd been much talk of appointing another Chancellor or Potentate to rule over the Empire, but that had met with indecision and resistance. Given that the last Potentate had been assassinated, there might have also been some reasonable measure of reluctance among the active members of the Council to step up.

The prevailing feeling seemed to lean toward the idea that only having an Emperor on the throne would give rise to some sense of restored stability. Though not every voice agreed with that notion without reservation.

A great deal of the pressure came from the representatives of High Rock, Hammerfell and Skyrim. According to reports, none of the ruling Counts or Countesses of Cyrodiil seemed willing to suggest that they should actually be elevated to ruling over the Empire. Though there had been some rumours of certain noises being made on behalf of the rulers of both Daggerfall and Sentinel. In any event, there wasn't anyone among them that could easily make any substantial claim for the throne.

Though they dithered in the face of turmoil, the somewhat diminished Elder Council finally acted during the latter part of that year. Arriving at some sort of decision had been no simple matter. Though far from unanimously supported, The Elder Council had eventually settled upon selecting someone from their own number to serve as provisional Emperor.

Elected by narrow margin, one of the Nibenese representatives on the council took the ruling chair. To be fair, Emperor Thules did hold a vague connection to the Septim family line, though only by marriage, via one of his forebears. Just a few others might have been able to make similar claims. Though none did and none of them were serving on the council at the time.

Before serving on The Elder Council, Thules had been a battlemage in the since defunct Mages Guild, as well as serving in the upper ranks of the Imperial Legion for a time.

Neither Bravil nor Leyawiin seemed terribly supportive of the choice. Though given the rebellious position of both those counties, their support or dissent carried little weight in the immediate circumstances.

Cheydinhal and Bruma seemed to generally favour the decision to elevate a local member of The Elder Council to a position of leadership. Though it seemed that it might have been more preferable that he'd been recognised only as Potentate, given the choice of individual.

Still, Thules' official status as provisional Emperor served to allay some of that concern. It seemed to suggest that he could still be replaced if he proved unsuitable.

Chorrol and Skingrad indicated only cautious acceptance for similar reasons. Given the current state of turmoil, they seemed willing to at least give it a chance.

According to some reports, Anvil and Kvatch appeared more uneasy. The rulers of those counties had accepted action over inaction, but remained sceptical of the decision.

Both of them were probably more concerned over the already diminishing funding and other resources. Kvatch needed gold for continued rebuilding efforts and Anvil had already expressed concerns over the relocation of Imperial Naval vessels from The Gold Coast to the Niben Bay region.

The other various provinces that still recognised the authority of The Elder Council just seemed to want a return to some prospect of stability and order. Though Emperor Thules was not openly embraced by all, his appointment seemed to herald the possibility of a return to business as usual. At the least, that was desired by each of them.

Trade between provinces had already been disrupted, especially direct trade with the Imperial Province. Both High Rock and Hammerfell were particularly annoyed with that circumstance. Merchant trade with Imperial Cyrodill was a significant source of wealth for certain parts of both of those provinces.

The rulers of Skyrim were less concerned with matters of trade and gold. They clearly would have preferred a descendant of Talos on the Ruby Throne, but they were cautiously prepared to accept someone that respected the legacy of the Septim Dynasty. They just wanted a strong and unified Empire.

Valenwood also seemed less concerned with trade matters. The Bosmer were more interested in a return to some sort of political stability. They were already nervous of the situation with Elsweyr. Even with those various Khajiit kingdoms in a state of disunity, the memory of the warfare of fifty years before was not forgotten.

Added to that, the status of the Summerset Isles also remained an obvious concern to Valenwood. The former government of that province had been overthrown and replaced by the movement calling itself The Thalmor. Even if The Elder Council had not officially recognised it, the land of the Altmer was no longer beholden to any Imperial influence.

The representatives from the once great houses of Morrowind expressed no opposition to the appointment of Thules as provisional Emperor. Since the recent eruption of Red Mountain and then the subsequent invasion and withdrawal of the forces from Argonia, those that remained in the Dunmer lands held greater concerns than who was ruling from the White-Gold Tower.

Though nobody knew it at the time, the ascent of Emperor Thules would only serve to provide a brief moment of hope and a misplaced sense of security. Things would soon become far worse before they became any better. Still, it seemed rather more obvious in hindsight than it appeared at the time.

* * *

><p>Karl's wandering thoughts were interrupted as he suddenly realised he was sitting there in the dark by the open window. It seemed obvious that the sun had disappeared from view some time ago. The familiar stars were twinkling brightly in the heavens. There wasn't even a fading glow upon the western horizon.<p>

He got up with the intent to head downstairs to get something to eat in the tavern. A thought occurred to him as he closed the door to his rented room. He'd forgotten all about going to see Captain Broder. He made a mental note to head over to the Foreign Quarter first thing the next morning. With any luck, he'd catch up with both Broder and Ceno before they went anywhere. He wanted to speak with both of them before he headed off for Wayrest on Turdas.

Karl acquired a hot meal downstairs, managing to avoid getting caught up in lengthy conversation with Hodge. Afterward, he visited the bathroom then returned directly to his room for an early night, fully intending to be up early the next morning.

~O~


	14. Chapter 14

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 14

Turdas the 17th of Midyear 4E49

It was only just a short time past the dawn as Karl gro-Baroth stirred. He'd just about gotten used to that overly comfortable bed, managing to actually wake up when he intended. He got up and stretched, releasing a short yawn.

He dressed in his plain clothes, then visited the bathroom to attend to pressing matters, before returning to his room in the Seaview.

After opening the west facing windows, he sat down in the chair with a flask of water to gaze out at the restricted view. Over the rooftops, the skies appeared just as clear as the previous days, promising more warm weather for Sentinel.

It wasn't so warm just yet, but he knew that would change soon enough. He'd decided that he didn't like the dry heat of Sentinel so much. He took it as another sign that he was getting old.

He had to figure that it was just as hot in Orcrest all those years ago. However, he didn't seem to notice it back when he was just a boy. Maybe the slightly milder summers of Chorrol had made him soft over the years. That was another sobering thought.

He was briefly distracted by the movement of the pigeons coming and going from the ledges of the building next door. He released a mild sigh.

It was his last day in the Hammerfell capital. By noon, he'd be on that trading vessel and then soon heading up the bay for Wayrest. With a passing thought, he was hoping that it would be a bit cooler up there.

On the previous morning, he'd been up and about just as early. Without wasting any time, he'd headed straight over to the Legion garrison in the Foreign Quarter. He'd noted that the streets already seemed busy for that early on a Middas. Especially so, since it wasn't a business day for most of the city.

Upon reaching the Legion house, Karl had a brief meeting with Captain Broder and the local Guild Fighters.

He'd had something to eat in their hall as he discussed things with each of them. He was really just letting them know about the state of his plans to get a local Guildhall operating in Sentinel. For the time being, it was all in the hands of the Imperial Consul. He'd also advised them he'd be back in town after a visit up to Wayrest.

After leaving the Legion house behind, he'd made his way back across town. It was already shaping up like another hot day at that part of the morning. That didn't seem to be having any affect upon the number of people out on the streets that day.

On his way back from the Foreign Quarter, he'd encountered a lot of foot traffic with many people making their way to and from the temple. It seemed that the temple would be one of the busiest places on the day of the Mid Year Celebration. That was hardly surprising, since just about everything was closed to at least noon, if not for the whole day. That appeared to be pretty much the same as things back east.

Karl had heard that some of the taverns would open in the afternoon, but most other places of general business would be remaining shut for the day.

He'd also heard that the arena would open up in the afternoon. That was supposed to be part of the various celebrations taking place. Apparently, the arena in Sentinel was supposed to be as popular as the one back in the Imperial City.

Hodge had previously told him of the performances taking place in the amphitheatre, down at the far end of the High District. He'd also mentioned that the main square of the marketplace would be a hive of activity with street performers and the midday declarations of Imperial tax announcements and various other things.

None of those things really interested Karl. He didn't want to get tangled up in any of that. He wasn't even that interested in hearing of any of the announcements first hand. He just figured that anything of real importance would reach his awareness soon enough.

Instead of heading into any of those crowded places of the city, he'd just returned to the Seaview Inn to avoid any of that sort of thing.

The tavern area was vacant of patrons that morning. It felt just slightly odd. Tallie wasn't even working there that day.

In the interest of not offending the older Colovian innkeeper, Karl chatted briefly with Hodge before heading on up to his rented room.

Hodge had told him that he wasn't opening the tavern to general customers until the evening. Even then, he didn't expect a great deal of business.

Upstairs in the peaceful solitude of his room, Karl ended up passing most of the day in an idle but restless manner.

Since he didn't have all that much to pack away before travelling, that task didn't keep him occupied for very long at all.

He'd tried reading that book that he'd started, but it hadn't really managed to hold his sustained interest. He didn't manage to finish it. His mind kept drifting off toward other things.

With some difficulty, he tried to put aside any thoughts of what the Imperial Consul might be able to wrangle in negotiations conducted on his behalf. He figured that stuff was all in hand and there was no point in even worrying about it until he heard about the outcome.

As he sat by the open windows, hoping for the light breeze to pick up some more, he thought briefly about Wayrest.

He'd never been there before, but he had some vague idea of what to expect from what Monika Northwind had told him. She'd also provided him with a rough sketch of the layout of that city. It was enough to tell him what he needed to know.

It was the local Fighters Guild that interested him the most. Of course, Karl didn't actually know Guildhead Wickfield except via occasional correspondence. However, Monika had likened to her Guildhead Canne. From that, he expected that Wickfield would be fairly easy to talk to.

He didn't really have any special insight into how the local Guildhead might react to his suggestions. Until he actually got up there, there really wasn't all that much more to think about that he hadn't already considered. He'd just have to play it by ear when he got there.

For one thing, he was expecting things to be a bit more friendly up in Wayrest. From what he'd heard, unlike Sentinel, they were little more tolerant of Orcs in that city. At least, it seemed that way, so long as you weren't some troublemaker running about the streets trying to make noise about wanting a new Orsinium.

Since Karl was Fighters Guild and would probably be taken for a city-Orc from Cyrodiil, he wasn't really figuring on any sort of problems in Wayrest. At least, not those kinds of problems.

After a while, he'd again ended up thinking about his childhood days back in Chorrol, going over some of his recollections from the previous day. That managed to keep him mildly distracted for a bit.

Late in the afternoon, Karl eventually dragged himself away from the open windows to head downstairs for a meal. Of course, since there was no one else in the place, that meant another friendly chat with Hodge.

Before any evening patrons started arriving in the tavern, Karl headed back upstairs for another early night.

Since he'd gotten up so early, he'd been just sitting about waiting for the time to pass by. After lingering upstairs in that room for a while longer, Karl eventually gathered up his belongings and headed on downstairs.

He was figuring on getting something to eat before leaving that place behind. He wasn't all that fussy. He was confident that whatever Hodge had on offer would be fine. By then, it was a bit late for breakfast and way too early for lunch. He'd just make do with combining both things into one.

The tavern area of the Seaview looked normal again that morning. He spotted a couple over Dunmer over one side and three Bretons over the other. After having something to eat, Karl exchanged farewells with Tallie and Hodge and then he was on his way.

* * *

><p>With his bulging pack and battleaxe across his back, Karl departed the Seaview Inn and made his way directly down to the harbourside district of Sentinel. Not that he was paying all that much attention, he did notice that there weren't so many people out of the streets that morning. At least, not the streets he'd passed through. He supposed that it was probably busier over in the marketplace.<p>

The Zenithar's Hammer was due to head out at noon. It was still a good hour or more before midday by the time that he reached the dockside.

Since there were no busy fishing boats with catches to unload that morning, the seagulls were just a bit quieter than usual. Karl noticed a bit of a light breeze from off the bay, making for a slighter cooler morning than the past few. He figured that was just his luck. The weather in Sentinel was looking like turning more pleasant just as he was leaving.

It wasn't all that busy about the docks. The Zenithar's Hammer was the only larger vessel at port and it seemed that all the cargo had already been loaded.

As Karl stepped aboard the trading vessel, a rugged Nord sailor directed him toward the ship's bosun. The bosun was a stringy old Redguard man. The Nord had referred to him as Old Yosef. He thought the name sounded like one of those old Yokudan names or the like.

The bosun paused to shout at someone looking to the riggings before turning his attention toward the big Orc. After asking for his documents, he'd cast a weary eye over them before he continued.

"Looks good ta me." Yosef returned his gaze to the stranger. "One cabin berth, headin' for Wayrest." He paused, glancing at the document of passage again, before handing it back. "You're not from around here, are ya?"

"Nah, just passin' through from Cyrodiil." Karl had half expected the old Redguard to say something about his name.

The bosun just nodded. "Lemme make sure ya know the rules before headin' down below." He paused just briefly, waving his bony hand at one of the sailors and pointing aggressively. Apparently, he didn't need to say anything more to make himself understood.

Karl pretty much knew what he was about to hear, but tried to look like he was paying attention anyway.

Old Yosef continued. "Up on deck, ya keep clear of the riggers and away from the helmsman. Don't go touchin' nothin' ya don't have to. If ya have to vomit, it goes in a bucket or over the side. No spitting or pissing on the deck. Just use the facilities provided. I'll have someone make sure to show ya."

He paused again to call over a younger lad. "Captain's quarters and the hold are off limits. Same with crew quarters. Don't go blockin' the corridors. You can use the mess anytime except between two and three in the afternoons and the hour before midnight." He paused again. "Got all that?"

"Yeah, got it."

"Good." The Bosun concluded. "Should be leavin' port inside the hour and we'll make Wayrest by this time tomorrow. Best that ya get down below until we're under way." He turned to the Breton lad that he'd called over. "Pierre will get ya down ta yer cabin."

Karl accepted the old Reguard's directions with a short nod, then followed the young Breton off the main deck.

The young lad seemed to be a bit of a talker. Karl was only half listening to his yapping as they headed down below. Pierre pointed out the captain's quarters as they passed by, reminding him that it was off limits. He also pointed out the bathroom facilities and the ship's mess, repeating what the bosun had already said.

The young Breton had gone on about how the Zenithar's Hammer used to be an Imperial Naval vessel called the Hammer of Anvil back in the day. Karl tuned out half of what he said. The lad also went on for a bit about passing through some unseasonal storms coming in from the Abecean on their way from Stros M'kai.

Soon enough, Karl was on his own in the tiny cabin he'd been assigned. It didn't look much different from the last one he'd be in when he left Anvil. He set his gear down on top of the upper bunk against the hull. Since there wasn't much else to do, he sat down upon the lower bunk to wait.

* * *

><p>The following hour didn't seem to pass quite as slowly as he'd expected. Soon enough, Karl felt the motion of the vessel moving away from the docks. He'd tried to ignore the general ruckus coming from somewhere up above. The occasional shouting and banging eventually subsided, giving way to the creaking noises of the wooden hull.<p>

The movement of the vessel eventually settled into a sort of rolling heaving motion as they cleared the harbour and headed out into the open bay.

Since there wasn't all that much to see through that small portal in the hull, Karl retrieved that book from his pack. Though he actually planned to read, he soon found himself just staring at the pages again.

He briefly thought about what the Breton lad had said about unusual storms on the Abecean Sea. In a roundabout manner, that reminded him of those storms that plagued the Imperial City back during the time of the Stormcrown Interregnum.

Of course, he never actually saw it himself, but he'd heard all about it. Those storms started not all that long after Ocato's assassination, when he was already living in Chorrol.

There were a number of slightly different versions, but they all said pretty much the same thing. Just a few weeks after he'd left the Imperial City behind, those unusual storms started regularly coming up the Niben, each one seeming to settle over the City Isle.

Some were violent thunderstorms and some just lingering rainstorms. Apparently, some consistently bad weather around that time of year wasn't completely unheard of, but not quite like that.

They say that the storms just seemed to linger over the city for days at a time. Some claimed the centre of the storms hovered directly over the White-Gold Tower until they lost their strength and eventually drifted from the isle.

There was often only about three or four days of relatively fair weather between each storm. Once that cycle continued to repeat itself over the months that followed, it seemed obvious that it was more than just an unusually active storm season.

After Emperor Thules took to the Ruby Throne, they say that the fair weather lasted for almost a month. For that brief period, it seemed that the promise of hope and an air of calm began to ease the concerns of the citizens of the central province of the Empire.

However, that circumstance was rather short-lived. That cycle of strange weather had soon started up again. The unnatural storms again following the same general pattern.

As Karl recalled, the appointment of Emperor Thules did not have any lasting calming effect over the citizens of the Empire. Of course, it wasn't just about the weather. The people had expected far more from that new Emperor, provisional or otherwise, and they also expected things to happen more quickly. It was fair to say that nothing much had really improved since his appointment.

Both Bravil and Leyawiin had continued to stand apart from the rest of Cyrodiil. The negotiations within the chambers of The Elder Council continued, but produced no positive results. In fact, things were already starting to look worse than before. It was rumoured that the rulers of those two counties were talking about setting aside their differences with one another and discussing the possibility of forming their own province. It remained unclear whether that might be a province of the Empire or a completely independent entity.

Skyrim, Hammerfell, High Rock and Valenwood seemed only cautiously accepting of The Elder Council's assurances. Each of those provinces had openly expressed anxiety over the persistent circumstance with the southern region of Cyrodiil. They'd fully expected that new Emperor to take control of the situation and resolve it quickly.

Morrowind seemed hardly affected either way. After how their lands had suffered, the political squabbling in the south seemed like little more than petty distraction in their eyes. In any case, there were probably more Dunmer living in eastern Skyrim and northern Cyrodiil at that time. If it didn't directly affect the plight of their own people, they didn't seem all that interested.

Of course, neither Argonia nor the fractured Kingdoms of Elsweyr held much regard at all, having already broken from the Empire. If anything, ongoing trouble for the faltering Empire only ensured that it remained in no position to challenge their freshly established independence.

The only possible exception to that was the independent Kingdom of Rimmen in eastern Elsweyr. The ruler of that independent state didn't seem interested in rejoining the Empire, but trade with the Imperial provinces was still of great interest. The word was that Rimmen was understandably uncomfortable with the instabilities that arose from the rogue behaviour of Bravil and Leyawiin. Aside from the disruption to ongoing trade interests, there was some concern that the future might give rise to some territorial challenge.

As Karl remembered it, the situation with the Summerset Isles was a fairly odd one at that time. Though the province had yet to officially break from the Empire, it had already been acting pretty much like it had. Apparently, The Elder Council had been clinging to the notion that it was all part of the transitional turmoil, and that it could all be sorted out later. In hindsight, it was pretty obvious that was never going to be the case.

From what he'd heard the freshly installed Thalmor government didn't seem interested at all in what The Elder Council had to say about much of anything. According to later record, the Thalmor representatives treated their participation in the Council only as a matter of strained courtesy.

That Thalmor faction had been causing trouble in the Summerset Isles since the passing of the Oblivion Crisis. It started off with pushing through trade sanctions and travel restrictions, and that was just when they only held partial control of that province.

Since overthrowing the old rule of Firsthold and taking full control of the land, the Thalmor controlled government had already begun operating as though the province was independent, whether the Empire accepted that state of affairs or otherwise.

According to some reports, aside from even more stringent restrictions upon trade and travel, there was word of a policy of purging local dissidents and rumours of the expulsion of anyone that wasn't of Altmer blood. After the fact, it turned out that there was much more to it than just rumour.

Still despite all of that, the representatives from the Summerset Isles were said to have voted in favour of the provisional Emperor.

It wasn't so long before that new Emperor started to fall out of favour with the citizens of the land. Though it might not have been a matter of outright lies, The Elder Council hadn't been perfectly honest about the man they'd installed as provisional Emperor. More of that came out as time went on.

It was true enough that Emperor Thules did hold that vague connection to the Septim family line by marriage, as tenuous as it might have been. It was probably even fair to say that others with similar connections held no better claim.

It was also true that Thules had served in both the old Mages Guild and the Imperial Legion. However, there had no been mention that he hadn't been considered particularly good at anything during his time of service. There had been attempts to talk him up as a powerful sorcerer, but there were those that said otherwise.

It later came out that he'd really only gained his position on the Council as a result of his family's wealth and claim to noble status. It had very little to do with merit. He certainly appeared ill equipped to follow in the footsteps of Potentate Ocato. At best, he stood as a figurehead for The Elder Council to rally behind. At worst, though not immediately evident, he might have represented more of a liability.

That became even more obvious upon those rare occasions when Thules was called upon to speak to the general public. It was said that rather than following the carefully prepared speeches provided for him, Thules had tended to wander off into unprepared babbling. It wasn't too long before the Council started to dissuade him from making public appearances of that kind, instead sending others to attend to it.

In the months that followed, a rather cruel and disrespectful reference gained popularity in hushed tones. The provisional Emperor had earned the unkind appellation of Thules the Gibbering, and that had nothing to do with his method of spell casting. Of course, that name never appeared anywhere in writing at that time, but it certainly spread quickly by word of mouth. In later times, that was how he would be remembered by popular history.

Karl cast his thoughts back to the start of the winter of the fourteenth year of the new era. He was only thirteen, back then. That was when the first murmur of unrest started to be heard in the Colovian west, as well as something else that would soon attract attention.

Of course, there had been a lot of noise about the marked increase in bandit activity and the like. It actually seemed worse in the west. It had already been on the rise during Ocato's brief reign and it had only grown worse since that time.

The Imperial Legion had been diminished in strength throughout the rural regions of Cyrodiil, and that was at a time when it was more needed than before. Outside of any major city, Imperial patrols had become few and far between, making even the major roads dangerous to travel.

The situation with the Fighters Guild was even more strained. During the reign of the Septim Dynasty, the Guild had come to rely heavily upon the funding that it received from the Imperial coffers. That had steadily declined to almost nothing by that time.

Modryn Oreyn had managed to secure some additional funds from Castle Chorrol, but even the flow of that coin remained uncertain. He'd advised the heads of other Guildhalls to do the same thing and thrown his weight behind it whenever possible. Still, the Fighters Guild was just about driven to begging, only able to continue with reduced numbers.

From what he'd heard, Count Hassildor of Skingrad had propped up the finances of the Fighters Guild in his city, but it came with certain conditions, insisting that they work more closely with his own soldiers. That Guildhall was down to just four members at the time.

The Fighters Guild of Anvil had managed to get by with a similar arrangement. Still, Azzan was only barely able to keep that Guildhall running and find funding to keep those other four from leaving. He'd already lost people in engagements with bandit gangs in the west and there seemed like no chance of replacing them.

Castle Anvil was already upset over the diminished allocation of funding and resources for their part of Cyrodiil. Ocato might have pushed for that Imperial Trading Company office and warehouse outside the city gates, but the roads had become far too hazardous for the trade wagons. The absence of an adequate Legion presence in the western counties was a major cause of that. The growing need for more armed guards or Fighters Guild escorts was making trade far more costly.

Even sea-going trade was adversely affected. Anvil had already expressed serious concerns over the recent relocation of Imperial Naval vessels from The Gold Coast to the Niben Bay region. It seemed like an open invitation for sea-going piracy.

Anvil had not supported the appointment of that new provisional Emperor. Though it was probably more complicated, it was quickly starting to look like the western counties of Cyrodiil were being punished for that sleight.

Kvatch was in a slightly different position, but the net effect was much the same. The Count of Kvatch was another that opposed the choice for the Ruby Throne.

The Count had been relying upon Imperial funding for the ongoing building projects in his city. That city was perfectly habitable by that time, but the rebuilding process was still not complete. The Imperial funding had all but ceased by then, and that circumstance seemed unlikely to change anytime soon.

Like Anvil, the economy of Kvatch was also adversely affected by the sparse Legion presence in that region. Given that all trade with that city came by road, the hazards faced by traders was a matter of great concern.

By then, the Fighters Guild held no independent presence in Kvatch. It had been folded into the Kvatch Guard, just to keep it operational in some manner. There was no gold for building a proper Guildhall or funding a separate entity.

Though he'd learned more detail later, Karl had heard a lot of that stuff from Fairbeard, as well as from listening to troubled discussions between his older brothers and Modryn Oreyn.

It was just a few months later when he started hearing of another development in the west of Cyrodiil. In the spring of 4E15, he'd heard repeated mention of a Colovian man making a name for himself in The Gold Coast region.

The word was that a man called Mede had been running a mercenary outfit in the Colovian west. That itself, that didn't seem so unusual. However, he'd managed to build up a large and successful operation in a very short time and his outfit seemed to be making a tidy profit by taking advantage of the diminished Legion presence and weakened Fighters Guild.

Mede's company had been providing armed escorts for traders and dealing with road bandits. He'd taken many of the contracts that might normally fall to the Fighters Guild as well as tackling the kind of things the Imperial Legion should have been attending.

There were more than a few rumours going around about Mede himself. Some said that he'd once been a soldier in the Legion. Others said that he'd run with bandit gangs on the wrong side of the law, but turned against rival gangs, then convinced his comrades there was better opportunity working for the Colovian Counties than living as outlaws.

According to what Oreyn had heard from Azzan, Mede's operation wasn't just another small company of mercenaries; the kind they'd seen come and go before.

Mede had already gathered scores of people to his outfit, and given the steady volume of work, he was already looking to expand further afield.

Of course, that circumstance only added to the woes of the struggling Fighters Guild in Anvil, making it appear even less necessary.

Since Mede's company had proved so effective, both Castle Anvil and Kvatch had cautiously welcomed the services provided and parted with gold to keep the trade wagons rolling and the bandits under control. After all, it wasn't like the Imperial City was providing any satisfactory assistance.

That was still early days in the rise of Titus Mede the mercenary. Before long, things would start to change in unexpected ways and it would happen very quickly.

* * *

><p>A distant banging noise coming from somewhere stirred Karl from his thoughts. It wasn't obvious what it was, but it stopped as soon as it started, so he figured it was nothing too important. It seemed that the afternoon had passed him by and it was already starting to get dark. He rose from that lower bunk in the tiny cabin, almost hitting his head upon the bunk above.<p>

Since he hadn't eaten anything since mid-morning, he was feeling a bit hungry. He headed off to get something from the ship's mess. He wasn't all that fussy about what would be on offer. Anything would do.

In the mess, he managed to avoid getting caught up in conversation with the Breton cook or the two Nord sailors that were there at the time. After dealing with his empty belly, Karl visited the bathroom one deck up, then returned to his cabin to get some sleep.

He'd be in Wayrest before the next day was done. Once he was there, he could look to the things he'd planned to get done.

~O~


	15. Chapter 15

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 15

Fredas the 18th of Midyear 4E49

The dim light coming in through small porthole caused Karl gro-Baroth to stir. He figured it was still pretty early, but he'd had more sleep than he needed anyway. He rolled from the lower bunk and stood up to stretch. He nearly grazed his fist on the wooden wall of the cramped cabin. There wasn't much space in there. Though he couldn't really tell, he was just about certain that cabin was smaller than the one he'd had on that previous vessel.

Wearing his plain clothes, he left the cabin behind and headed off to find the bathroom facilities. Since he wasn't feeling so hungry, rather than heading for the ship's mess, he decided that he wanted to go up on deck to stretch his legs and get some fresh air.

Above deck, he quickly realised that it wasn't quite as early as he'd thought. The reason for the dim morning light was the low and heavy cloud cover passing over the northern part of Iliac Bay. It seemed like it was coming from the western part of High Rock and crossing toward the northern regions of Hammerfell. The skies looked only partly cloudy in the distant south. The salty sea breeze coming across the bay made it feel a bit cooler. He didn't mind that at all.

All of about five minutes passed before it started raining on him. He quietly wondered to himself which of the Nine Divines he'd pissed off. It seemed that wherever he was headed, the weather was against him in one way or another. Of course, he didn't really think it was about him. The weather was just the weather and it had to rain somewhere. At least it wasn't so hot.

He decided that he might as well head back down below deck and get something to eat from the mess. Provided that the Zenithar's Hammer was going according to schedule, it would be making port by around noon. It wasn't all that long to wait.

Karl made his way back down below and to the ship's mess. A couple of sailors were just coming out as he went in. The balding Breton cook with the dark eyes and bulbous nose seemed somewhat indifferent as he offered his service. Karl remembered that everyone called him Cookie, but he doubted that was his actual name.

The Breton man advised him that the ship had been making fair time and was still expected to make Wayrest by some time around midday. That was welcome news.

Since clam broth was what Cookie had on offer that morning, he'd settled for that. He probably would have preferred something else, but he had to concede that it was surprisingly tasty. It was probably more to do with the mix of spices and vegetables than the clams. Either way, it served to quash his passing hunger.

Once he was finished in the mess, Karl headed back to his cramped cabin to wait out the remainder of the journey.

* * *

><p>With nothing to do but wait, Karl pulled out that book that he still hadn't finished reading. He briefly sat on the tiny stool at that small table in the corner of the cabin. After repeatedly knocking his knees against the little table, he quickly decided that the lower bunk was far more comfortable and practical.<p>

After just a short passage of time, he realised that he wasn't actually reading the book. It seemed more interesting when he first started it, but not so much since he'd tried to go back to it. In any event, he just wasn't in the mood for it.

He released a long sigh. He was just a few hours from Wayrest, but it was already feeling like those hours were going to be passing real slow for him.

It occurred to him that it was just a couple of days short of three weeks since he first decided to set off from Chorrol. That was half way through the period he'd allowed before making a decision about the Guild Master position.

It truth, he'd pretty much already come to the obvious decision. He expected that he'd probably be back home before then, but he was thinking that maybe he ought to just send word ahead. If he sent it off soon, it would probably get to Cyrodiil in about a week. He decided that he might wait until after speaking with Wickfield in Wayrest.

Karl released another long sigh and looked out at the clouded sky through that small porthole. He couldn't really see much of anything else.

He sat back on the bunk. He didn't want to lie down. He figured he might just nod off if he got too comfortable. The day before, he'd been thinking about Titus Mede and the way things were back then. His mind drifted soon back over those things. Of course, that was back before Titus Mede was the Emperor or anyone of major importance. He'd certainly come a long way since those early days. Karl had to admit that the man had done a fairly good job since he took the throne.

Karl had met him just a few times before he was an Emperor, but only once since he took to ruling the Empire. On each of those occasions, it was only because of Karl's connection to the Fighters Guild in Chorrol.

Those earlier times, Karl was still just a lad, not yet properly serving in the Fighters Guild. However, with Fairbeard, Kurz, Lum and Modryn Oreyn involved with what was unfolding, Karl was in a position to actually meet the man that all of Colovia was rallying behind.

The last time that he'd met with him, Mede was the new Emperor of the land. That was back when Azzan was stepping aside to allow Lusius to take over as Guild Master in Chorrol. At the time, Karl had been both surprised and impressed that Emperor Mede remembered him by name. He'd been just as impressed that he remembered his older brothers and their sacrifice in helping to bring peace to Cyrodiil.

By Karl's reckoning, Mede didn't seem to act like someone born to rule, but he did come off as someone who was capable of leading others. He seemed like a man that was all about getting things done. Someone who led by example and inspired others to follow.

From what Karl could tell, it seemed that Mede liked the idea of being seen as a man from humble beginnings. A man of the people, for the people. It seemed that he preferred to be seen as ruling for the people of the Empire, rather than ruling over them.

Karl wasn't sure how much of all that still rang true after thirty years on the Ruby Throne. He had to figure that the position would change a man. Still, the official historians of the Empire seemed to make a big thing out of Titus Mede's questionable past as a commoner and he didn't seem to object at all.

He remembered reading the common description of Mede in various books. A lot of them still mentioned that before he took the Ruby Throne, he'd been a Colovian warlord, a soldier in an outlaw army, and a rebel king in Cyrodiil.

When Karl had first heard of him, it was rumoured that he might have been a reformed outlaw and that he might have been a soldier before that. There hadn't been much mention of that mercenary company in the history books, only what came later. Mede was not even really noticed by most of Cyrodiil until Thules' floundering Empire labelled him as a warlord running a rebel army.

During that two year period since Karl had first heard of him, a lot of things had happened and change swept across the land fairly quickly.

By the time that Karl had turned fourteen, Titus Mede's operation had just about taken over the role of the Legion in the western counties of Cyrodiil. In fact, many of his people had actually left the Imperial Legion to join up with his mercenary company.

Though it was not publicly known at the time, during those months leading up to the end of the fifteenth year of the new era, the rulers of both Anvil and Kvatch had started withholding a portion of their taxation due to the Imperial coffers. That activity had been framed as protest against the withdrawal of Legion support in the west of Cyrodiil.

Both of those westernmost counties had taken to paying the city guards directly from their own reserves and redirecting other funding toward the security resources provided by Titus Mede.

Apparently, Count Hassildor of Skingrad had resisted going down that road for quite a while. Even though at the same time, he'd also needed to cover the shortfall in funding just to keep his own city guards and local soldiers in operation.

The Count of Skingrad was well renowned for always placing the needs of his own city first, but he remained reluctant to turn away from the appearance of supporting the Ruby Throne. Apparently, he still held to the belief that a unified Cyrodiil was the best thing for Skingrad.

The only persistent flaw in that logic was that Cyrodiil was already far from unified and Emperor Thules seemed increasingly unlikely to bring about any effective change in that regard.

From what Karl understood, the Countess of Chorrol also seemed to hold to a similar viewpoint. Any shifting from that position might have appeared unlikely at first. However, it did seem that her resolve was slowly beginning to waver, in light of the prevailing circumstances.

Although cautiously optimistic at first, Countess Arriana Valga had become a vocal of supporter of Ocato during his relatively brief reign. The former Potentate had done a great deal to hold the Empire together during troubled times, demonstrating a great respect for the legacy of the Septim Dynasty.

It was known that Countess Valga had instructed her representatives to vote in favour of the new provisional Emperor. However, it was also known that concerns were expressed at the same time. It was firmly suggested that Thules might have served best as Potentate rather than Emperor, even if that higher status had been bestowed only provisionally.

The Countess' allegiances with the other parts of Cyrodiil were somewhat mixed. She maintained a cordial relationship with the other rulers of the Colovian west. Though in the case of Skingrad, it was really more the case she held a good relationship with Count Hassildor's stewards. Since Janus Hassildor rarely saw anyone in person.

She held a similar respect for the rulers of both Bruma and Cheydinhal. However, both of those counties had maintained support for Emperor Thules and The Elder Council. The Countess might have been reluctant to oppose their views.

Countess Valga held no strong relationship with Bravil. Given the state of affairs at that time, she probably held little regard for what the Count of Bravil might think as long as that rebellion continued.

The matter of Leyawiin was a far more complicated one. In some ways, events of that period would have served to make it rather less complicated, but not less messy.

For some time, Countess Valga's daughter, Alessia, had been married to the much older Count Marius Caro of Leyawiin. Of course, that circumstance had been a source of friction at the time that Leyawiin had rebelled from Imperial rule.

Various things eventually came to a head, resulting in Alessia leaving her husband and returning to her mother in Chorrol.

It wasn't just about Leyawiin's rebellion. It came out that Alessia had been under the influence of powerful charm magic for years. She'd been expertly manipulated by her Altmer adviser and systematically coerced and corrupted into highly contentious behaviour.

After learning of all that, Countess Valga had developed a strong measure of contempt for the Caro's Leyawiin regime. Though Cyrodiil might have needed action to bring Leyawiin back into line, she'd become rather less interested in the welfare of Marius Caro.

Supposedly, each of those circumstances might have played some part in what transpired when Titus Mede first came to Chorrol.

Karl wasn't privy to all of what happened in any discussions between Mede and the Countess, but it had to have been somewhat friendly.

That was evident by Medes repeated visits over the following months. Also by the provision of his forces to assist with keeping the peace in County Chorrol.

Eventually, Chorrol entered into some sort of agreement that included Mede and the other Colovian counties. Something similar must have taken place in Skingrad.

Karl didn't know all the details. Only that an agreement emerged between those four western counties of Colovia. It harkened back to the union of the Colovian Estates of the first era, when the entire west of Cyrodiil united against the rule of the Alessian Empire in the east.

It hadn't immediately come to warfare, but it still seemed a likely possibility. A number of factors stalled that circumstance. With the weakened state of the Empire and the diminished resources of the Legion within Cyrodiil, The Elder Council favoured ongoing negotiation over any further outbreak of hostilities.

Forces of the Imperial Legion and Imperial Navy had been recalled from far-flung provinces to the central province, but that took time. Even then, at least a small military presence needed to be left in the north of Morrowind. The situation in High Rock had also added to the complications. The unsanctioned sacking of Orsinium by the combined forces of Daggerfall and Sentinel had caused a lot of problems in that region and the relatively small Legion presence had been caught in the middle.

Nearer to home, the situation in the south of Cyrodiil had already been causing far too much trouble for the Council. Bravil and Leyawiin had continued to assert independence and in a fashion that became even more contentious.

A former Legion commander by the name of Eddar Olin had turned away from Imperial rule in support of the southern counties. With the consent of the rulers of Bravil and Leyawiin, Olin had taken leadership of the military forces in the south. That added to the tension. More so, since many of Olin's former Legion people had followed him to the south.

A similar circumstance played out in the west of Cyrodiil. At first, Mede was granted acceptance as the General of the combined military of the Colovian alliance. The rulers of Anvil, Kvatch, Skingrad and Chorrol would have viewed Titus Mede as a suitably neutral party to serve as leader of their combined security forces. Added to that, if it all went badly, more of the blame could upon his shoulders.

During all of that, the rising popularity of Titus Mede among the people of Colovia seemed almost inevitable. The common folk had come to view him as a symbol of Colovian independence striving to save them from the ills of a broken Empire.

Though it was not something officially declared, the people of the west had come to think of Titus Mede as the provisional King of the west, albeit a King without a seat of power.

It was not exactly clear whether the rulers of those four counties agreed with that notion. Some believed that they were probably waiting to see exactly how things played out.

In either case, the rulers of the Colovian Counties had agreed that Thules the Gibbering needed to go and appeared willing to support Titus Mede in his bid to bring about that outcome.

By the end of the winter of early 4E17, the Imperial City had come to recognise the Colovian alliance as an organised uprising, much like the one in the south. However, the resources of central Cyrodill didn't appear up to the task of resolving the situation by force.

The Elder Council had struggled to continue seeking resolution by negotiation, but it wasn't really going anywhere. Bravil and Leyawiin made use of military forces to hold the shifting line of their claimed borders. The counties of the Colovian west claimed that they wanted to respect the authority of a unified Elder Council, but could not continue to abide the rule of that provision Emperor.

Before too long, it was going to all come down to action instead of words. The final gathering of Colovian forces rallied at Chorrol. People had come from all across Colovia. Not all of them were native Colovians, but they seemed to make up the greater number.

Medes main encampment was within the city walls, below Castle Chorrol. There were many more camped outside the city. Including commoners, members of the Fighters Guild, and soldiers from each of the four western cities of Cyrodiil, Medes army numbered somewhere upward of two thousand. Even then, that wasn't all of it, just those gathered at Chorrol for what was planned.

Some of what happened after that did not go as Karl had been expecting, at least not for him personally. By that time, Karl was nearly sixteen. His days had been split between schooling and training as a recruit in Chorrol's Fighters Guild.

By then, Karl had sprouted and was well on his way toward matching the size of his older brothers, in height if not in bulk. He remembered that he had a full head of bushy dark hair back then. He also recalled that it didn't last too far into his thirties, eventually leaving him completely bald.

In any case, Karl had been in a hurry to grow up and prove himself. Despite his ongoing protests, Fairbeard had insisted that he continue with his schooling as long as it remained possible. Karl figured that it was mostly to keep him from quickly progressing from a Guild recruit to a proper member. There was probably some truth to that.

With all that was going on, Karl had been putting in a lot of effort into readying himself for the chance to participate in the coming conflict. He wanted to be properly prepared to stand with his family. Since Oreyn, Fairbeard, Kurz, Lum, and pretty much everyone in the Guild would be fighting alongside Mede's army, Karl had been expecting to go as well. However, those that held direct influence over him had decided otherwise.

Though he'd railed against it, Karl had been convinced to remain behind with the small contingent left in place to protect Chorrol. That had been just a handful of city guards and some of the Countess' castle guards. The only ones left at the Guildhall had been Karl and the aging Breton woman who served as the smith.

Fairbeard argued that Karl wasn't yet ready to fight in that kind of conflict and he wasn't about to permit the risk of his first battle becoming his last. Both Kurz and Lum agreed with that assessment, as did Oreyn.

Kurz had suggested that it would have been a different matter if all of that had been taking place a year later, but it wasn't. So, he wasn't about to send his youngest brother into pitched battle before his time. Not when there were plenty of others to make up the numbers.

Lum had told Karl that he understood his eagerness to prove himself, but he still agreed that it was too soon. He promised that Karl would eventually agree with that, once Lum had the time to train him up later.

Karl had given serious consideration to sneaking off behind their backs and joining up with Mede's army, but in the end he did as he was told.

When Karl wished them all luck and watched them depart Chorrol, he didn't realise that it would be the last he saw of his family and many of his peers.

Since he wasn't there in the thick of it, Karl only knew of what happened from what he'd heard later. Even then, it was only the broad detail.

Before approaching The Red Ring Road, Mede had broken his army into three major ranks. The two slightly smaller groups engaged the Imperial Legion on the mainland, drawing them outward to battle upon two fronts. That provided opportunity for the main force of about a thousand to make it to the Imperial Isle and into Imperial City.

In short, Titus Mede's main force managed to take the city with very little resistance inside the city walls. There had been relatively few casualties. From what he'd heard, they hardly needed to fight until reaching the palace district. Even then, they easily outnumbered the remaining defenders. By the end of the day, the Imperial City and the White-Gold Tower had been surrendered to Mede's forces.

The other ranks of the Mede's army didn't fare nearly as well. There were many casualties on both sides of the conflicts that raged outside the Imperial City.

Alongside many others, the Fighters Guild members were part of the forces engaged in the battles outside the city. Many died on the battlefields that day and many more shortly afterward from the injuries that they sustained.

Of Chorrol's Guild Fighters, only Honditar and Prelius survived and both were badly injured. Honditar would fully recover after proper treatment. Prelius had lost a leg below the knee and would never actively serve the Guild after that time.

It was Azzan that returned to Chorrol to tell Karl of what had happened. Sparing him the specific detail, he told Karl that he'd witnessed both Kurz and Oreyn fall during the battles outside the city. Though he'd not actually seen them fall, he'd found the bodies of both Fairbeard and Lum in the aftermath. Azzan had made arrangements for all of the fallen Fighters Guild members to be returned to their specific cities.

In one day, Karl had lost all of his family.

After the passing of his initial disbelief, then that empty sucking hole of grief, Karl had become angry that he'd never had the chance to stand by their side. He'd been thinking that things might have been different if he'd been there.

It was a conversation with Azzan that served to set aside some of his anger. As the wizened Redguard had explained to him, if Karl was there with them that day, he'd almost certainly have died by their side. Then no one would have been left behind to carry their memory or their names into the future. If nothing else, Karl could take some solace that their sacrifices had not been senseless. They had all fallen in the act of helping to bring peace to the fractured land. He suggested that the best way to honour their memory was to carry on and try to live up to their ideals.

In those early days of his loss, Karl didn't like it one bit, but he could hardly argue with anything that Azzan had said. Once the sharp edge of his anger had subsided just a little, he'd resolved to finish out that year of schooling that Fairbeard had insisted upon, then turn his attention fully toward the Fighters Guild, just like Kurz had done.

Karl was suddenly distracted from his musings as he noted that it had become much brighter in that cramped cabin. Peering out the porthole, he saw that the cloud cover had started to break. He still couldn't see much of anything else. He sat back on the bunk again and thought some more about Fairbeard and his older brothers.

* * *

><p>Just before midday, the noises coming from above told Karl that the Zenithar's Hammer had to be approaching the port of Wayrest. It was just a little after noon by the time the vessel bumped against the docks. He didn't need to pack away any gear, but he knew that he needed to remain below in the cabin for a while. He settled back and waited for the activity up on deck to ease a bit before thinking about heading up there.<p>

Once it sounded like some of the noise from above had finally subsided, Karl loaded up with his pack and headed out. Arriving up on deck, it looked like the old Bosun was fairly busy with directing his charges. He figured he'd just have to wait a bit longer, so he took a moment to look about at the unfamiliar surroundings.

It seemed that the Zenithar's Hammer was the only trading ship at port. There was an Imperial Naval vessel anchored just offshore, but it was the only other sizeable ship about. All the other vessels about the docks looked to be smaller fishing boats.

Gazing beyond the bow of the ship, Karl could see the Bjoulsae River extending off toward the north. He wasn't real sure how to say it right, but he knew the name well enough, since it was a major feature on any map of that region.

There was nothing much to see across the river, but some old overgrown ruins. He understood that the land on that side of the river belonged to Hammerfell, but it didn't look like it had been settled in recent times.

To the aft of the vessel, there was nothing but the open waters of Iliac Bay. He could just see a set of sails out toward the horizon. He couldn't really tell whether the ship was coming or going.

It looked like the earlier rain over the bay seemed to have passed, giving way to some patchy cloud cover drifting eastward. He did notice that it seemed a bit cooler. The moderate sea breeze seemed to have something to do with that.

Of course, the main thing of interest was over on the port side of the ship. He had a clear view of Wayrest's Portside District. Up the hill in that direction, the walls of the city obscured what lay immediately behind. Beyond that, the distant Wrothgarian Mountains could be seen off to the north. Karl understood that the old Orsinium region was somewhere off in that direction, but only because it was marked on the maps.

After a few moments, old Yosef drew his attention and waved him forward toward the docks. Karl responded accordingly, moving quickly as the opportunity presented itself. He needed to dodge some dock workers shifting crates along the pier, before making his way onto the main docks.

Karl immediately noticed that the port district of Wayrest didn't seem nearly as rough as some of the dock areas that he'd seen in other places. The warehouses and other structures about the main docks were a mix of timber and stone construction. Most of it quite well kept. It seemed a fair indication of the sustained wealth of that port city.

The walk up from the docks was a fairly short one. He was soon passing through the open gate located just a short distance from the southern corner of the outer wall. A bored looking city guard sat upon a stool near the gateway. He'd idly glanced in Karl's direction as he approached, but didn't seem particularly interested. He didn't even ask to see his papers, just nodding him through.

Inside the city walls, the streets appeared to be clearly signed. Karl had noted that he was on Rivergate Street. He already had a fair idea of where he was and where he was headed.

From Monika Northwind's rough map of the place, he knew that he was in Eastmarket. That whole corner of the city was the Eastmarket District. There were some narrow alleyways on his left that probably led to where he actually wanted to go, but he stuck with the directions that she'd provided.

Monika had said that the easiest way to get to the Fighters Guild was to just follow Rivergate Street for a short distance before turning left into East Boulevard. From there, he should take the second main street on the left and follow it down toward the south wall. It seemed to him like he was going in a wide circle, but he followed those directions anyway.

Walking along those streets, he'd noticed that just about every building seemed to be a place of commerce of some sort or another. The streets were lined with warehouses, taverns and inns. He'd passed a bookstore, two blacksmith's and several other common merchants of various kinds.

Karl suddenly realised that he must have missed the street he was meant to turn down as he spotted Northwind Traders up ahead on the right. From Monika's directions, he knew that her family's store was on the western edge of Eastmarket.

He had reason to drop by that store at some point, but it could wait until after he'd been to the Fighters Guild.

He turned about to see where he'd gone wrong. Given the look of the broad main thoroughfare, he'd mistakenly failed to spot the difference between what was a side street and what was an alleyway.

Karl retraced his steps to find the right street, then followed it down. Before reaching the southern wall of the city he spotted the familiar red banners hanging at the front of the Guildhall, featuring the symbol of the shield with crossed swords. Of course, the design of the building was not exactly the same as other Guildhalls, but the signage looked just the same as the ones back in Cyrodiil.

Pushing open the heavy door, he stepped inside. Despite being so far from home, it all felt instantly familiar. The layout of the lower level looked rather similar to the Guildhall back in Chorrol, except that the main open area was over to the right, instead of on the left. Stone walls obscured rooms to the left and stairways leading to upper and lower levels were toward the back on that side.

In the open area, a Redguard man and a Breton woman were seated at a table going over a map. They looked up briefly with mixed expressions of surprise and annoyance, apparently wondering who he was.

Before Karl had the opportunity to go any further, a middle-aged Breton man emerged from a doorway to the left and looked to him with some curiosity. "Oh, hello there. Can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah. I hope so." Karl figured he looked like he was probably the porter.

"Dunyn Hearthsmith. I'm the Guild Porter here." He extended his hand in greeting.

"Yeah, I figured. Karl gro-Baroth. Fighters Guild. Outa Cyrodiil."

Hearthsmith raised his eyebrows. "From Cyrodiil? You're a long way from home." He paused with a frown. "Karl gro-Baroth, from Chorrol?" His expression indicated that he'd just placed the name.

"That's right." Karl confirmed.

Hearthsmith's eyes darted as he processed that information. "So, ah… so, are you here on official business?"

"Yeah, sorta. I'm hopin' to meet with the Guildhead. Wickfield?"

The porter cleared his throat. "Yes, Wickfield. Well, I'm sure that Guildhead Wickfield will be pleased to meet with you. However, she's not here right now."

Karl returned a questioning gaze.

Hearthsmith responded. "The Guildhead is out for the afternoon. She's ah… she's attending official meetings. Elsewhere in the city."

"Well, it don't need to be right now. I got time."

The porter nodded, affecting a mild grin. "I should think that she will be able to meet you tomorrow. In the mean time, I'm sure you're quite welcome to use the facilities of the Guildhall. I can assist with finding proper accommodations for you."

"Don't need nothin' special. Just a bunk and somewhere to leave my pack."

"Of course." Hearthsmith agreed.

The porter guided him in the proper direction, leading him up the stairs to the next level. Those upper areas were more reminiscent of the Skingrad Guildhall.

The third level above was completely separated from the common area of the second level by an enclosed staircase and door.

Hearthsmith pointed Karl toward a free bunk and provided him with a key for the lockable trunk. After advising him of the location of the bathroom and kitchen facilities, the porter left him there on his own.

After stashing away his gear, Karl briefly thought about heading back out into the streets, then decided otherwise. Instead, he made use of the bathroom facilities to clean up and even shaved the bristles from his face.

Though it was still a bit early, Karl decided to get something to eat from the kitchen on the main level. He had passing conversations with the Redguard and Breton woman in the common area.

The dark haired Breton introduced herself as Gwyn Monnard. She seemed friendly enough. Her accent reminded him a little of Monika and she had a similar manner to her.

The Redguard was called Cyrus. He was a lanky man with broad shoulders. From his accent, Karl figured he must have lived more of his days in High Rock than Hammerfell. He recalled that he'd met more than a few Redguard named Cyrus, but made no mention of it.

It seemed that neither of them made the connection that he was the Orc that had been running Chorrol's Guildhall. Karl didn't care either way. At least they didn't ask any dumb questions about his non-Orcish name.

After dealing with his belly, Karl headed off to find Hearthsmith again. He acquired some parchment, ink and a quill, then headed back upstairs. He sat down to compose the message that he wanted to send back to Cyrodiil.

After a lengthy pause, he managed to get down the first part of what he wanted to say. The second part briefly outlined what he was trying to achieve in Sentinel. He left some space to add a further comment.

He read over it several times, then he put it aside. He figured that he wanted to wait until after he'd spoken with Wickfield before he finished the whole thing.

By that time, the sun had set, giving way to the evening. Karl just sat there on the bunk thinking for a while.

He'd already decided upon an early night. He wanted to be fresh when he met with Guildhead Wickfield the next day. After another quick visit to the bathroom, he'd returned to the bunk on the second level. Before anyone else had come upstairs to their bunks, he'd managed to settle in and drift off to sleep.

~O~


	16. Chapter 16

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 16

Loredas the 19th of Midyear 4E49

Karl gro-Baroth awoke early with the dawn. It took him just a moment to remember where he was. That bunk felt just like the ones back in Chorrol. Added to that, the common sleep area on the second level looked much like any other Guildhall. Still, he knew he was far from home. Wayrest was the furthest he'd ever been from the place he called home.

The early morning light coming in through the nearby window had served to wake him nice and early. That's exactly what he wanted.

With a suppressed groan, the big Orc rose from the bunk. He yawned and stretched, noticing a few other bodies still resting soundly on their bunks. The night before, he'd managed to get to sleep before anyone else had come up there.

He noticed that one of the sleepers was Orcish. He didn't know who he was, since he hadn't seen him the previous afternoon. That Redguard he'd briefly spoken with was sleeping nearby and the Breton woman was bunked in the far corner. At the opposite end, he noticed another a sleeping man with distinctive read hair. There still seemed like a lot of empty bunks.

Once he was fully dressed, Karl headed off for the bathroom facilities to attend to immediate matters before anyone else stirred.

Since it was still fairly early, he figured that it might be a while before he could go see the Wayrest Guildhead. With that in mind, he headed off for the kitchen area on the main level, figuring on getting something into his belly.

It appeared that the kitchen had been tidied and cleaned the previous evening. There was no sign of that roasting beef or the simmering pot of mixed vegetables that he'd eaten yesterday. Everything had been put away somewhere.

Spotting a teapot, he decided that tea seemed like a good idea. After stoking the fire and setting some water to boil, he examined the broad variety of teas that were there.

Each one of the small pots were labelled with unfamiliar names. He hadn't heard of most of them. There was Camlorn Darkleaf, Gavaudon Green, Menevia Broadleaf, among others. The names sounded to him like something from an alchemy store. Back in Chorrol, he rarely saw more than about two kinds of tea, Colovian and cinnamon. Maybe just a couple of other kinds on odd occasion.

For no particular reason, he settled on one of the strangely named teas that didn't look or smell too unusual and dropped some scoops into the teapot.

Waiting for the water to boil, he rummaged about for something to eat. He found some cheeses that didn't seem too unusual, though some of them did smell unfamiliar. He also found some odd looking bread-sticks. For some strange reason, they were about the same size and shape as a carrot, with little grain seeds stuck on one side.

Soon enough, Karl wandered into the common area with his tea, cheese and silly looking bread-sticks. He settled at the table nearest to the kitchen.

He sipped at his mug of tea. Despite the slightly unfamiliar aroma, the tea didn't taste too unusual. He found it pleasant enough.

The cheese had an odd flavour about it, but it wasn't unpalatable. It seemed just a little more salty or tangy than he was used to. He just figured that it must be typical of how that they made it up there in High Rock.

Those strange bread-sticks were slightly sweet. He wasn't sure what was in them, but he decided that he liked them. It appealed to his sweet tooth.

As Karl nibbled on his food, the Guild Porter passed by. The middle aged Breton man exchanged a friendly morning greeting before heading off into the kitchen area. After a short while, he emerged with a steaming mug of tea and then headed back upstairs.

Just a short time later, Karl sipped at the last of his tea as that Redguard and the Breton woman ambled past on their way toward the kitchen. Neither of them seemed in a talkative mood at that early hour.

Since he'd finished up, Karl got up to take his plate and mug back and clean up after himself. Cyrus and Monnard were just leaving the kitchen as he returned. They each offered only muffled morning greetings, still not ready for further conversation before taking something to eat.

That didn't bother Karl at all. He was only being friendly to pass the time. He figured that it was still too early to see Wickfield. It probably hadn't even passed the hour of seven yet.

He took his time in the kitchen, cleaning up what he'd used and putting things back where he'd found them. With that task done, he ambled back out toward the common area. He paused a moment, just glancing about and wondering what to do next.

The Guild Porter, Dunyn Hearthsmith, emerged from another doorway. He must have come back down from upstairs without Karl noticing. He approached the Orcish visitor directly.

"I hope that the facilities have met with your satisfaction?" Hearthsmith prompted.

"Ain't no complaints from me." Karl returned a toothy grin.

"Very good." The porter nodded. "I have already spoken with Guildhead Wickfield on your behalf. She should be free to meet with you this morning."

"Sounds good."

"The Guildhead is an early riser. I expect that she should be ready for you. I can take you up there now, before anything else arises."

"I reckon I can find the way." Karl looked in the direction of the stairs.

Hearthsmith returned a curt nod. "Very good, then." He didn't seem offended.

As Karl and Hearthsmith were talking, the Orc and red-headed man had come down from upstairs, making a line directly for the kitchen. Aside from brief glances of curiosity, they'd ignored the visitor. He did the same.

* * *

><p>Leaving the Guild Porter behind, Karl headed on up the stairs, all the way to the upper level of the Guildhall. Just like the second level, that third level was laid out pretty much the same as the one back in Skingrad. Even the Guildhead's office was located in the same relative position on the left side of the open space.<p>

Approaching the open door of her office, he paused to announce his presence by knocking. She noticed him immediately. Putting aside her mug of tea, she rose from behind her desk and waved him in.

"I've been expecting you." She offered a friendly expression.

At a glance, Karl could recognise what Monika had suggested. Guildhead Wickfield did seem vaguely reminiscent of Canne, the head of Skingrad's Guildhall. They were both Breton women of a similar age and general appearance.

"Madena Wickfield." She extended her hand in greeting. "So, Karl gro-Baroth. Head of Chorrol's Fighters Guild." There was touch of enthusiasm in her tone.

Karl responded accordingly, taking her hand. "Yeah well, not actually the Guildhead yet. I'm still just the acting Guild Master of Chorrol."

Wickfield frowned lightly.

Karl shrugged. "Yeah, I s'pose I'll be lookin' to change that. Once I get back, that is."

The Breton woman nodded. "Please, take a seat." She indicated the chair across from her desk. She waited until he settled into position before continuing. "It's good to finally meet you in person."

"Yeah, likewise."

"So then, what brings you all the way up here from Chorrol?"

"Well, I was in the general area. Figured I oughta visit."

Wickfield wrinkled her nose with a frown.

Karl could see she wanted a better explanation. "Yeah well, I just came up from Sentinel. I was lookin' to get a proper Fighters Guild organised there, with a proper Guildhall."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, then tilted her head as she thought about the suggestion. "It's been a long time since Hammerfell had a strong Guild presence."

"Yeah, 'cept over in the east parts."

"Of course." Wickfield nodded. She was aware of those other Guildhalls in Rihad, Elinhir and Dragonstar. "Still, there hasn't been a Guildhall in Sentinel for years. Not since the days before Emperor Mede." She looked to him with a start. "I'd heard about some trouble in Sentinel just recently. Something to do with the arena, I think."

Karl nodded. "Yeah, some of my people put a stop to it before it got outa hand. Some idiot with a Daedric artefact tried to start up a cult. Some sorta secret group tryin' to take the place of the Guild."

"Really? I didn't hear that."

Karl waved it off. "Doesn't matter now. It's all sorted. Ain't likely to happen again. Least not like that, anyways."

Wickfield looked down at her desk for a moment, before looking back up. "A couple of your people were here about two or three months back."

"Yeah, woulda been Northwind and Pinewatch."

She nodded slowly. "Northwind?"

"Yeah, Monika Northwind. She's got family up here."

She nodded again. "Ah, Northwind Traders. I didn't make the connection at the time. I think I know her bother, Edwyn Northwind. Well, I really don't him that well, but I've spoken with him. He's with the Guild's Board of Associates, representing the local traders."

"Sounds right." Karl agreed. He didn't know all the ins and outs, but Monika had mentioned something like that.

Wickfield finished the last of her tea and set the mug aside. Her expression indicated she was gathering her thoughts. "I'm guessing that you didn't come all the way here just for a friendly visit. So, what else is on your mind?"

"Yeah well, coupla things. Most important thing is to have a talk about the Guild." Karl paused a moment before continuing. "Well, way I see it, ever since just after the Oblivion Crisis, the Fighters Guild ain't been the same. Especially after Ocato was offed."

"I can't argue with that. It just about fell apart back then." Wickfield noted with a pensive expression.

"Yeah, after Mede stepped up as Emperor, he managed to help out with gettin' the Guild back up and runnin' in Cyrodiil. Just about back to the way it was, more or less. An' then with Azzan's help, the same in the eastern parts of Hammerfell. But ain't so much been done since that."

"That's why you've tried to address that absence in Sentinel." She suggested.

"Yeah, pretty much. With what happened there a few months back, the timin' looked right for it. I figure if Sentinel has a proper Guildhall, then the rest of Hammerfell might follow. It might take a while, but ya gotta start somewhere."

Wickfield's slow nodding broadcast her understanding. "I expect that you might have just mentioned all that in future correspondence." Her expression seemed a prompt. She seemed to anticipate that the conversation was headed for something else.

"Yeah, I been thinkin' that maybe we might talk about closer ties between Guildhalls."

"The ones in High Rock, you mean?"

"Well, yeah." Karl allowed that inference to hang for a moment.

Wickfield released a mild sigh. "The Guildhalls of High Rock aren't exactly unified as a group. I mean, we all follow the Guild Charter, but each Guildhall operates independently, securing local funding arrangements."

"That's kinda what I figured." Karl acknowledged.

Wickfield continued. "Here in Wayrest, our funding comes from the Guild's Board and the Royal Palace. Most of our contracts come through the Guild's Board as well." She paused briefly. "We don't have much to do with the other Guildhalls. Only occasionally, if there's a favour to be asked or something that crosses our territorial areas."

Karl indicated his understanding with a nod and a mild grunt.

Since he seemed to have nothing to add, Wickfield resumed. "The Fighters Guild of Daggerfall mostly answers to the rule of Daggerfall." There was a touch of contempt in her voice. "That's where all their funding comes from. I can't say that I have any dealings with them these days. Not for a long time."

"What about the other cities?" Karl prompted.

"Well these days, Camlorn relies on a combination of local funding and some support from Daggerfall. From what I've heard, the Guildhalls of Camlorn and Daggerfall are in regular contact." Each time she mentioned Daggerfall, her expression turned to distaste. "There are only two other Guildhalls in High Rock. The one in Shornhelm services that city as well as North Point. The Fighters Guild in Evermore looks after Farrun and Jehanna. I do know the second-in-charge in Evermore. A man called Copperton. He originally started out here in Wayrest, before leaving for Evermore. I still hear from them occasionally, but not that often."

Karl rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Doesn't seem like there's much Fighters Guild cooperation up here."

Wickfield tilted her head. "Well, I'd say that kind of started off as a matter of necessity. Years ago, when the flow of gold from the Empire dried up, the only way to keep a Guildhall going was through local sponsorship. Some Guildhalls didn't even make it through that time at all. That led to a… a sort of local independence." She looked to Karl with a fixed stare. "I don't know that you'd have much luck trying to change the current state of affairs."

Karl nodded without conviction. "Well, I don't wanna go pissin' on anyone else's patch, but maybe the Guildhalls of High Rock should be talking, more regular like. I can tell you that I ain't heard nothin' from the Daggerfall Guildhall in years. I think the old boss said or did somethin' to piss 'em off. Dunno what. Over time, all the others stopped talkin' to Chorrol as well. You're the only one I still hear from."

"I didn't know that."

"Yeah well, it's not like I'd be thinkin' that High Rock's Guildhalls would wanna sign up to takin' orders from Chorrol, but I reckon we should all be talkin' to one another. Maybe we oughta be havin' some sort of meetings for the heads of the Fighters Guild from time to time."

Wickfield seemed influenced by his words. "I can see the sense in that. It sounds like something to think about."

"Yeah well, I ain't got it all straight in my head yet, but I wanted to start off by makin' the suggestion."

"Were you planning to visit some other Guildhalls while you were up here?"

Karl winced with a mild shrug. "Dunno if I'll have the time for that. Not this time anyways."

Wickfield gave the impression that she'd been moved by his ideas. "I could approach Evermore and Shornhelm. Encourage more regular contact and maybe even persuade them to start communicating with Chorrol again."

"Yeah? Can't argue with that."

Wickfield nodded to herself, giving the appearance that she liked what she was thinking. "I think I can see the value in it."

"Yeah well, way I see it, even if every Guildhall runs their own patch, we still oughta be seen as all being part of the same Fighters Guild. Least from the outside. That way, we stay important in the eyes of the Emperor."

"I can see that." Wickfield agreed. She wrinkled her nose as another thought came to mind. "I'd expect that if all the other Guildhalls were doing that, then that might put some noses out of place in Daggerfall. Still, I suppose that Daggerfall and Camlorn might feel pressured to join in."

"Yeah well, I was thinkin' somethin' like that." Karl seemed satisfied with how the discussion had passed. He suddenly thought to ask about how the Wayrest Guildhall was faring in terms of numbers. "I only saw four Guild Fighters here. That all you got?"

She shook her head. "No, no. Another couple of my people are out on a contract. Rosethorn and Greensly are over in Gavaudon on a job right now. With Hearthsmith and myself, we're eight at the moment. We were ten, but we lost someone last year and another retired."

Karl responded with an expectant gaze.

Wickfield resumed. "We usually have a steady stream of contracts. So, I can certainly look at replacing the numbers. I've been planning to look for a fresh recruit or two. Just haven't got to it yet. They usually come to us from time to time, but I might need to put out the word this time."

Karl just nodded his agreement. He knew what that was like.

After a lengthy pause, the Breton Guildhead seemed to recognise that Karl might have something else on his mind. "You mentioned that you had a couple of things to discuss."

"Yeah, the other thing." Karl nodded his head. "There was somethin' you mentioned last time you sent some stuff to me. About some Orc troublemakers and one that got locked up by the City Watch."

"That was a couple of months ago, I think." She seemed to know what he was referring to, though it didn't seem fresh in her mind.

"You mentioned some names that he gave up. One of 'em was Uzgark gro-Baroth."

She paused a moment to think. "Yeah, Baroth, I think I remember that. Is that someone from your family?"

"Not anyone I know of, but it sounds like more than a coincidence. The old man's name was Baroth gro-Uzgark."

Wickfield understood the inference. "You don't have a brother or something?"

"Not that I knew about. Thought I might look into it while I was up here. I was hopin' you might have somethin' more that I could follow."

"I didn't get all the details. Just the list of names." She started rummaging through papers on her desk, before deciding that she wasn't going to find what she was looking for. "The one they locked up was called Borgul something, I think."

"Did you get where they'd come from?"

"Ah no, not that I recall. Well, not exactly. Just somewhere up north, toward the Wrothgarian Mountains. If you can give me a day or so, I can probably find out more. If I can't find anything, I'm sure the City Watch will hand over whatever they have."

"Sounds good." Karl agreed. "Long as it don't take too long."

"I think I should have something by tomorrow. Maybe even later today."

"Can't ask for more than that." Karl returned a toothy grin.

They touched upon just a few more things before the conversation finally lost all inertia. It was mostly about the kind of work that they generally handled in their respective regions and the kind of people that they had working under them.

Karl felt fairly pleased with the tone of the talk. Overall, he came away with a feeling of general optimism. After thanking Wickfield for her time and assistance, he left her office behind to head back downstairs.

* * *

><p>On his way down from the upper level of the Guildhall, Karl stopped on the second level with a brief thought. He turned and headed for his bunk. After a moment of rummaging through his pack, he retrieved that letter that Monika had given him to pass on to her family.<p>

She usually sent mail back home to her family via the Imperial Trading Company, but since Karl was already headed for Wayrest, she asked him to take it with him. Of course, he didn't mind at all.

Downstairs on the main level of the Guildhall, it seemed that nobody was about except for Hearthsmith. The Guild Porter seemed in a cheery mood as he asked Karl if there was anything that he could do to help. He made a point of mentioning the training facilities located below on the basement level. He also advised that some of the others were training that morning and that he'd be welcome to join them. Karl declined, indicating that he had business in town and continued on his way.

Leaving the Guildhall behind, Karl stepped out onto the streets of Wayrest. He headed straight up the narrow street toward the main streets of the city. Since he'd spotted the location of Northwind Traders the previous afternoon, he already knew where he was going.

Outside, it seemed like a fair summer day in the making. Just a few fluffy clouds drifted across the blue sky. The weather felt milder than down in Sentinel. It was a warm morning, but not unpleasant. He hadn't noticed much of breeze until he made it to the open space of East Boulevard. A gentle wind blew down the wide street from west to east.

He hadn't seen so many people about on those narrow side streets, but the broad thoroughfare that led to the centre of town seemed much busier. It was no real surprise that most of the people looked to be Breton or maybe mixed with a bit of Imperial or Nord. He spotted a few people of other races, but not so many.

There were a few pushcarts being moved along the street, but most of the activity looked to be related to people visiting the stores and other businesses. There looked to be a lot of people headed toward the open square near the centre of town.

Soon enough, he'd arrived at his destination. Northwind Traders was located on the right-hand side of the main boulevard on a corner where another side street tuned off to the north. Karl pushed the front door open and stepped inside.

From first glance, the place looked pretty much like any typical general store. There was a broad range of goods on open display. Clothing and jewellery made up significant proportion of it. A range of lamps and lanterns, some books, as well as a variety of other household items were also evident. It looked like it catered to just about everything but perishable food products.

There didn't seem to be any customers in the store at the time. It was later in the morning by then, but still some time short of midday. A fair-haired girl was just finishing with sweeping the floor over to one side. She glanced at the visitor and set aside her broom. She looked to be about seventeen years old.

"Oh, hello. Welcome to Northwind Traders. Can I help with anything?"

"Uh, yeah. I got something to pass on. From Monika Northwind."

The girl frowned slightly, then turned her head and sang out loudly. "Mother. Someone to see you."

Karl winced from the assault of the shrill tone. He imagined that it might have been heard out on the street.

Almost immediately, a woman appeared behind the main counter, looking slightly flustered. Karl immediately noticed a passing resemblance to Monika. Her hair was just a touch darker and cut a bit shorter. Just like Monika, she was tall and looked slightly more elvish than the average Breton. She looked to the stranger with a curious expression as he headed for the counter.

"You Monika's sister?"

"That's right, I'm Erika." Her expression conveyed a mix of concern and surprise.

The big Orc affected a friendly smile as he extended his hand. "Karl gro-Baroth. From the Fighters Guild back in Chorrol."

"Oh, you work with Monika?" She took his hand. "Is… is she all right?"

"Yeah, yeah. She's fine. Just like always." Karl maintained a reassuring tone. "Since I was headed this way, she asked me ta pass on this letter." He withdrew the sealed parchment from his vest and handed it over.

"Oh, thank you." Erika glanced at it briefly. It seemed slightly bulkier than usual.

"What's all the noise about?" A slightly built Breton man with darker hair emerged from the back area, wiping his hands on an apron.

Erika responded. "This is… this is Karl gro-Baroth, from Chorrol. He brought a letter from Monika."

"From Monika?" The Breton man frowned. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine." Erika answered.

"Oh, good." The Breton turned to look at the Orc as he approached him and offered his hand. "I'm Roberto, Erika's husband. You're… Karl gro-?"

"Yeah, just Karl will do. Pleased ta meetcha."

Roberto returned a curious look.

Karl recognised what was behind the look. "Yeah, long story. I was named after my parent's closest friend. A Nord fella."

Roberto nodded slightly. "And what about Alex?"

Karl understood the meaning of the question. "Yeah, yeah. He's fine too. Nothin's changed there since ya last saw 'em."

Erika interjected. "Mother will be glad to receive this letter."

"Glad ta help." Karl grinned.

The fair-haired girl interrupted. "I think I'm all done with the floors and everything. Can I go?"

Erika released a sigh as she cast a withering glare.

Roberto spoke up. "Have you dusted the lamps and jewellery cases?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "I did that first."

Roberto looked to his wife with a frown.

"It's been slow all morning." The girl whined. "Mother?"

"All right, then." Erika relented. The girl was off like a bolting horse. "Don't be back late." She called after her. No response came back.

Erik turned back to Karl. "That was Elyssa, our youngest."

Roberto added some more. "She helps out here part time, while she's studying artistry over at the Horley College."

Karl just nodded his understanding, though he didn't really know what Horley College was about. "I s'pose I can see a bit of Monika in her, as well. She musta looked a bit like that when she was younger."

"Yes, a little." Erika agreed.

Roberto spoke again. "We also have a son, Bradon. He's just a couple of years older than Elyssa. He's in the City Watch."

"Yeah? You must be proud."

"Yes, of course." Roberto beamed. "It's not as risky as what Monika does. He's just on day patrol in the city. His training is probably more dangerous than the job, but it's still important work."

"Sure is." Karl agreed.

Erika changed the subject. "If you don't mind my asking, what brought you all the way up to Wayrest?"

Karl shrugged mildly. "Yeah, ah… I was just visiting the Fighters Guild up here… an' talking to the Guildhead about stronger relations between the Guildhalls."

"Did that go well?" Roberto asked.

"Yeah, looks like." Karl offered. "Reckon I'll just hafta wait and see."

Roberto turned to his wife with a question. "Is Francine coming in today?"

"After noon." Erika answered. She turned back to Karl. "Francine is my brother's wife. Edwyn works for the Guild's Board of Associates these days."

"Yeah, I heard." Karl affirmed.

"They have a couple of young boys, Nikulas and Guilbert." Erika added.

Roberto commented. "It's a pity that Elwyn isn't in here today. She would've like to have met you."

"Mother's not over here so often these days. Not since mother and father…" Erika trailed off.

Karl cleared his throat. "Yeah, Monika told me about your father. My condolences. He musta been a good man."

"Yes, he was." Erika agreed, with a touch of melancholy.

Roberto spoke again. "Do you have family back in Chorrol?"

Karl shook his head with a shrug. "Lost all my family years ago."

Erika's expression conveyed a touch of empathy. "No wife or children?"

"Nah, that never worked out that way."

"That seems a pity." Erika offered.

Roberto chimed in. "As you can probably tell, the Northwind clan are a small but tight bunch. We're all here in Wayrest, except for Monika."

Karl shrugged. "I s'pose the Guild is my family. Ya just gotta work with what ya get."

Roberto interrupted the awkward silence that threatened. "Will you be staying in Wayrest for long?"

"Can't say." Karl shrugged. "I'm waitin' on some news about somethin'. Good meetin' with ya, but I can't hang about. Got somethin' I need to get to this afternoon."

"We understand." Erika offered. "Make sure that you pass on our best to Monika."

"I'll do that." Karl returned a reassuring grin, then quickly took his leave.

* * *

><p>Leaving Northwind Traders behind, Karl turned left and made his way back toward the Guildhall. Walking along the broad boulevard, he briefly considered that he could take the time to look around Wayrest. However, after noticing the swell of midday traffic on the streets, he decided that he wasn't really feeling in the mood for it. Instead, he just kept heading back the way he'd come.<p>

Soon enough, he was returning to Wayrest's Fighters Guild. Back inside the Guildhall, he set aside the passing thought of going about some training. He'd already decided that he wanted to finish that letter to send back to Cyrodiil.

With that in mind, he avoided getting tangled up in conversation with the Guild Porter and headed back upstairs to attend to that task.

Karl retrieved what he'd written so far and then sat down with ink and quill to get it done. He firstly read over what he'd already put down.

The first part detailed his intent to officially step into the role of Guild Master upon his return, provided that there were no objections. The second part outlined his efforts to negotiate the re-establishment of the Fighters Guild in Sentinel, with a view toward encouraging more Guildhalls in the western parts of Hammerfell in the future.

From there, he added something about his early discussions in High Rock. The basic gist of it explained that he'd opened a dialogue with Wayrest's Guildhead, with the general idea of encouraging a renewed level of communication and cooperation between the Guildhalls of that region, as well those a bit further afield.

Once he was fairly happy with what it all said, he added some further notes at the end, specifically for the benefit of Montrose, his acting second-in-command. He intended to send that copy back to Chorrol.

He then made a second copy of the main portion of the message, taking care to write it more neatly. That second letter was meant to go directly to The Elder Council. Hopefully, it would also be passed to the Emperor at some point.

He read them both through once more and thought about getting them sent off right away, then changed his mind. He decided that he'd read it again the next morning before settling on it. He didn't want to have to write it all again, but he also wanted to make sure it said everything he wanted it to.

By the time that Karl had finally finished with that task, it was well past the middle of the afternoon. He figured that it had to be after three. After a few moments, he got up to head downstairs. He felt like he wanted to be doing something.

There was a bit of a ruckus coming from the kitchen area. Apparently, Cyrus had just returned with a cleaned carcass from the butchers. Hearthsmith and the Redguard were having a loud discussion over which way the lamb should be cooked.

Karl didn't want to get involved. Instead, he headed downstairs to the basement training area. He was mildly surprised to learn that there was nobody around down there. He didn't know where everybody was, but he was happy enough to have the place to himself.

He took up a practice blade and started working on a wooden dummy. It felt good to have the time to just get in a bit of mindless training.

Of course, his thoughts soon started to drift. Things that Monika's sister and her husband had said came to mind. That had him thinking about notions of family.

Karl hadn't had any sort of blood family since he was sixteen, after the battles for the Imperial Throne back then. He figured that it was kind of true that the Guild had become like a family of sorts. He also acknowledged that Azzan played a big part in that. He did owe the old Redguard for that. He'd helped him to follow in the footsteps of Fairbeard and his older brothers after they were gone.

Just twice, Karl had thought that he might have had a chance to start a family of his own. However, on both of those occasions, it didn't work out that way.

That made him wonder a bit why Northwind was still with the Guild in Chorrol. He figured that Pinewatch might've had something to do with it at the moment. Still, it didn't seem like she didn't have other options, either with or without him.

He didn't really know how she felt about things, but it seemed to Karl that Monika could easily return to Wayrest if she wanted that. Even if she didn't want to be running the family business, she could probably join the local Guildhall.

Monika also had options back in Cyrodiil. He knew that she'd taken on part ownership of the Wawnet Inn. He also knew that Alex owned that plot of farming land just outside Weye. He'd been raised as a farmer near Falkreath before turning to the Fighters Guild.

It wasn't like he wanted to lose Northwind or Pinewatch from Chorrol, but he could recognise that they had other places they could go, if that's what they wanted.

For Karl, the Fighters Guild had become his life. He wasn't that sure he could even imagine retiring from that lifestyle. He figured that he'd probably be doing it until he dropped.

Those thoughts remained with him as he continued hacking away at the practice dummy. He must have passed almost two hours down there before he tired of the effort.

Leaving the training area behind, he headed for the bathroom to clean up. That physical activity had served to clear his mind and work up an appetite. The smell drifting from the Guildhall's kitchen area told him that roast lamb was on the menu.

Soon enough, Karl had a plate stacked with roast lamb and vegetables, along with a big mug of ale with a slightly unfamiliar flavour to it. He sat down in the common area with Hearthsmith, Cyrus and Monnard. That other Orc and the red-headed Breton hadn't yet returned from wherever they'd gone. Aside from some idle chatter, there was more eating than talking going on. At least, to begin with.

The porter seemed far more talkative than the other two. He appeared rather curious of how the Fighters Guild operated back in Cyrodiil. At first, Karl didn't mind so much. However, it wasn't so long before he tired of it.

Once he'd finished with his food, he was quick to go about cleaning up after himself, then headed off for the bathroom like it was an urgent matter.

Rather than getting tangled up in further conversations, Karl made his way upstairs to try for another early night before anyone disrupted his plan.

From the sound of the muffled noises coming from down below, he figured that some of the others must have returned to the Guildhall. He was glad that none of them were coming upstairs to the common sleep area just yet.

Just before nodding off, he was thinking about his conversation with Wickfield earlier in the day. He was hoping that she would have something to tell him the next day about those Orcs that caused some trouble in Wayrest a couple of months back. He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting to learn. Either way, he'd just have to wait and he'd worry about it when the time came.

~O~


	17. Chapter 17

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 17

Sundas the 20th of Midyear 4E49

For Karl gro-Baroth, the morning started off much the same as the previous one. As intended, he woke early with the rising sun.

Similar morning rituals took place as those of the previous day. He got up and dressed quietly without disturbing any of the others that were still sleeping. After visiting the bathroom, he headed for the kitchen area on the main level of the Wayrest Guildhall. He then got himself something to eat and sat down in the common area.

The movement of others seemed the follow the same pattern as he'd observed the day before. The Guild Porter soon passed by with a friendly morning greeting before taking a mug of tea upstairs. Karl figured that the tea was for Wickfield.

A short time later, Cyrus and Monnard trudged downstairs to get something to eat from the kitchen. Just as Karl was finishing up and ready to go on his way, those other two also passed by headed for the kitchen. None of them seemed real talkative at that hour.

Since pretty much everyone was downstairs at that point, Karl purposefully headed back upstairs to the common sleep area. He retrieved those letters from his pack and sat down to go over them once more. He went over each of them twice before he decided that he was satisfied with the content. He thought he was going to find something that he wanted to change, but that wasn't the case. The only thing left was to get them sent off.

Just as he was thinking about that, Hearthsmith came along toward him.

The Breton porter cleared his throat. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Nah, it's all good." Karl folded the letters.

"I have just spoken with Guildhead Wickfield. She asked me to let you know that she has some news for you. She said you would know what it's about."

"Yeah." Karl didn't seem too surprised. He'd been expecting something.

"She should be available to see you right now, if it is suitable."

"Sounds good. I'll do that." Karl slipped the letters back into his pack as the porter turned to leave and headed off downstairs.

* * *

><p>Karl headed for the upper level to visit the Guildhead in her office. Upon arrival, he paused to knock at the open door. "Hearthsmith says ya wanted ta see me."<p>

Wickfield looked up from her desk. "Yes, come on in. How are you this morning?"

"Yeah, good 'nuff. Yourself?" In response to her gesture, Karl took to a chair.

"Yes, I'm well." She waited a moment for him to settle into his seat. "It looks like I've found something that might be of interest to you." She indicated the parchments on her desk. "I did find those details from a couple of months back." She handed them across the desk.

Karl looked over the document, noting that name he was looking for in the list. "Looks pretty much the same as what ya sent me."

"It should be." Wickfield affirmed, before drawing his attention to some other parchments. "This information that I acquired from the City Watch has a bit more detail." She handed across the other documentation.

Karl perused the first page of the document in silence.

Wickfield continued. "Most of it is just an expanded version of what I previously sent over to you, but it does mention where that Borgul came from. A place called Ripwold."

Karl looked up with a frown. "Where's that?"

"Ripwold is a small town in the north of the old Orsinium region. In the high country below the Wrothgarian Mountains."

Karl's expression indicated that he still didn't have much idea of the location.

She resumed. "There's not much up there in the high country, just a couple of towns and a few villages. You'll find more than a few Orcs in the area, but more of them live up in the mountains."

"That near Orsinium? The city?"

She shrugged with a tilt of her head. "It's in the same general area. The ruins of the old city are north of the village at Midpath Hill, but Ripwold is a bit further west."

Karl nodded, but still didn't have much idea from that. "So, how far off is this place?"

"It takes at least a day to get to Ripwold." She paused. "Actually, maybe a little more than that. The winding roads and rough terrain in that region make for slow going."

Karl seemed to be trying to picture it his mind. "Reckon I've seen that kind of thing before." He was thinking of the high country of County Chorrol and County Bruma.

"You're planning to go there?" Wickfield prompted.

"Yeah, thinkin' about it."

"Well, to get there you'd follow the coast road north and take the turn off inland toward the town of Reytry, then head west across to Ripwold. I could get you a map."

Karl nodded confidently. "Reckon I can find the way with that."

Wickfield looked to him with a thoughtful expression. "You probably shouldn't go up there alone. It can be fairly rough, up near Ripwold."

"Ripwold?" A male voice with a strong Breton accent came from outside the office.

Karl turned to see who Wickfield was looking at. The man pulled back his hood with a crooked smile. The dark haired Breton looked to be somewhere in his thirties. Under a cloak, he wore dark armour that appeared to be a mix of steel mail and ebony plate. It looked expensive.

Wickfield addressed him. "Marq, you're back. Come on in." She glanced to Karl. "This is Karl gro-Baroth from Chorrol. Karl, this is Marq Rosethorn, my second."

"Pleased ta meet ya." Karl took the Breton's hand without getting up.

"As am I." Rosethorn looked tired, but his expression indicated that he'd recognised the name. "Aren't you the new head of the Fighters Guild, over in Cyrodiil?"

"Yeah, sort of. Still acting head. Least til I get back and look to makin' it official."

Rosethorn accepted that with a subtle nod. He spoke with a mild frown. "Wayrest is quite a way from Chorrol."

"Yeah, long story." Karl responded in a weary tone.

"I'll fill you in later." Wickfield interjected.

"Are you on your way to Ripwold?" Rosethorn remained standing. His tone conveyed some uneasiness.

"Lookin' that way." Karl offered. "Might have some blood relatives in the area that I didn't know about."

Rosethorn glanced to his Guildhead with a wary expression.

Wickfield spoke. "As I was saying, I don't think you should go up there alone."

"I agree." Rosethorn concurred.

Karl glanced at each of them in turn with raised eyebrows.

Wickfield responded. "I don't doubt that you can take care of yourself, but you don't know the area. Added to that, it's a dangerous region. Even for an Orc, if you're not a local."

"If ya say so." Karl agreed mildly.

Rosethorn offered a comment. "Garish gro-Yargol knows the region. His family came from up that way."

Wickfield nodded. "If you're determined to go up there, I'd feel better if you let me send someone with you. Garish could go along and take Westcroft with him."

Karl's expression reflected his scepticism. "Ain't like this is a proper job or anythin'."

"I understand that." Wickfield agreed. "Still, I'd feel better if they went along. Consider it a courtesy."

Karl paused just a moment. His face broadcast his resignation. "I s'pose you're right. For what it's worth, I don't plan to be all that long. Maybe just a coupla days or so."

Wickfield nodded. "That's fine. I'm sure I can do without them for a few days."

Rosethorn spoke up. "I might go round up Garish and Westcroft before they're sidetracked by anything else."

Wickfield's silent expression indicated her assent. Rosethorn dashed off accordingly.

The Guildhead looked to Karl again. "When are planning to go?"

"If it ain't a problem, I'd prefer to get goin' as soon as possible. I got nothin' else I need to be doin' an' I don't wanna go wastin' too much time on it."

She hesitated with a thought. "I suppose, if you manage to get away early enough you could make it to Reytry by evening. That would still get you to Ripwold tomorrow."

"Sounds good ta me."

Wickfield agreed that he could take the other two as soon as they were ready. Karl had just one more thing to bring up. He asked her about getting some mail sent off for delivery to Chorrol and the Imperial City. Wickfield assured him that she could handle it.

He headed off to retrieve the letters from his pack and leave them with the Guildhead. By her reckoning, she expected that the messages would take at least a week to arrive at those destinations, but no more than two. Karl already figured that to be the case.

Soon enough, Karl had changed into his old iron armour and loaded up with pack and battleaxe. By then, Rosethorn had brought up the other Orc and the Breton man with the shock of red hair, officially introducing them. He'd already advised them that they'd be going with Karl over to Ripwold. Karl suggested that he wanted to get going right away.

As soon as they were organised with their armour and weapons, they all headed downstairs. They only delay came from Westcroft. He'd suggested raiding the kitchen for some supplies before heading off. Once they'd filled their water flasks and had some food for the road, they were on their way.

* * *

><p>Karl departed the Wayrest Guildhall in the company of Garish gro-Yargol and Kenneth Westcroft. It looked like another mild summer morning outside. It would probably become warmer as the day wore on, but there seemed no obvious threat of unpleasantly hot weather. A few fluffy white clouds drifting across the blue sky seemed to carry the promise of a breeze that had yet to arrive.<p>

In relative silence, they headed northward up that narrow street toward the main part of town. The sounds from their footfalls and clicking of armour seemed the loudest noises on the quiet street that morning.

Karl had been quietly taking note of Garish's armour. It was comprised of dark Orcish plate over heavy leather. It didn't seem like some of the more expensive Orcish armour he'd seen before, but it looked pretty solid. He wore a lesser blade at his side, but like a lot of Orcs, it seemed that he favoured a large two-handed weapon. He carried a big warhammer across his back. It looked to be of traditional Orcish design with some sharp spikes on the business end of it.

By Karl's best guess, Garish looked to be maybe in his early thirties. Just a bit younger than his brothers when he'd first met them. His tanned colouring indicated that he passed a lot of time out in the sun. His bushy dark mane contrasted with Karl's shiny dome.

Westcroft looked a bit younger. His blotchy and freckled complexion indicated that his fair colouring didn't do so well under the sun. His messy red hair seemed to always look like he'd just got up out of his bunk. He wasn't so tall, but seemed of fairly solid build for a Breton.

Westcroft's armour was a blend of lighter steel plate and mail. He favoured the sword and shield combination, but also carried a shorter blade at his other side.

Since leaving the Guildhall behind, none of them actually spoke until they reached the wide boulevard that ran from east to west.

"We need ta go this way." Garish led the way onto East Boulevard, headed westward toward the centre of town.

Westcroft spoke up. "Are we going the whole way on foot?"

Garish returned a withering glance. "We ain't goin' ta Menevia or Alclaire."

"I know that." The Breton redhead responded.

Garish continued. "Don't wanna take horses up into the high country. Just attract raiders if they're about."

Karl looked to the other Orc with a mildly confused expression. "How do traders manage in that area?

Garish affected a crooked grimace. "The only traders that go in and out of those parts are the Orcish outfit that operate out of Reytry. They probably have deals with the outlaw groups in the region." Something in his tone made it sound like that wasn't an idle guess.

Karl grunted his acknowledgment. He wasn't all that surprised.

Garish added some more. "Ain't like that on the main roads. Trade with Menevia, Alclaire an' other major places is a lot less trouble."

Westcroft chimed in. "Some of our contracts are just escorting traders on the road."

Karl grunted again. "Yeah, I figured."

They soon passed by Northwind Traders, leaving the Eastmarket District of Wayrest. That's as far as Karl had been the day before. A little further along, they crossed an open square with a fountain at its centre. The signage marked it as Cumberland Square. Karl thought he'd heard that name before, but he couldn't immediately place it. He figured that it must have been on that map that Monika sketched out for him.

Karl noticed a few people milling about the open stalls and businesses on the broad boulevard that headed northward from the square toward a large sprawling mansion surrounded by a huge open garden space. Responding to Karl's obvious curiosity, Westcroft had mentioned that it was Castle Wayrest. Karl couldn't see it that clearly from that far off, but it didn't look at all like any castle he'd ever seen before.

They continued onward along West Boulevard. Karl wouldn't have known that it wasn't still East Boulevard, if not for the clear signage. The wide street just seemed to change its name at the central square.

The tide of foot traffic appeared to increase as they progressed westward. Much of it looked to be coming from the direction of the tall temple at the far side of an open sprawling cemetery. Karl just figured that Sundas morning must have been the busy time for Wayrest's temple, just like back in Chorrol.

West Boulevard eventually ended at a forked intersection. One fork veered off to the north in the direction of that temple. The signs indicated that Westgate Street was the one that Garish was leading them down. It was obvious enough where it headed.

Karl noticed the area over to the left, cradled in the south western corner of the city walls. A sign marked it as Westcorner. He assumed that was a district name.

The run-down houses of that area stood in stark contrast to everything else he'd seen in Wayrest. The district wasn't all that large and most of the small structures featured more ageing timber than stone. Even the harbour district looked much better. It was obviously the part of Wayrest that housed the poorer citizens of the city. It served as a reminder that even the wealthiest of cities had places like that.

It must have been passing the hour of ten by the time that they left the western gates of Wayrest behind them. It had taken a good half-hour or more just to get across town from Eastmarket.

They followed the open road westward for a while before it turned north, following the coastline just inland. With the rise and fall of the road over the rolling hills, the waters of Iliac Bay came into view from time to time, but the actual coastline remained obscured by the land.

Out on the bay, the hazy shadow of an island could be seen off in the distance when there was a clear line of sight to the south. The sunlight seemed to glint off a tall structure that rose from the distant island. Westcroft had noticed that Karl's attention was drawn toward it. He volunteered that it was the old Direnni Tower on the Isle of Balfiera.

Karl suggested that he knew all about it, if only to deflect any lengthy explanation. In truth, he didn't know all that much about it. He'd read that it was supposed to be the oldest structure in all of Tamriel and that the Altmer ruled the region from there back before the rise of the other races. He'd also read something of the legends that said it was built by the Divines, back at the dawn of time. In Karl's mind, that didn't seem to make a whole lot of sense. He couldn't see why the gods would need a place like that. Since they were gods and all. He always figured that was just some sort of Altmer horse-shit to make it seem like they ruled in place of the Divines.

After passing a couple of produce wagons headed inbound for Wayrest, the road ahead remained fairly quiet. There seemed to be no one else headed outbound from the city at that time. It didn't seem like there were regular Legion patrols along the major roads like back in the Imperial Province.

The highlight of the morning seemed to come from Westcroft spotting an eagle of some sort swooping down on a grassy field. Westcroft had insisted that it had just plucked a rabbit from the field. Garish reckoned that it wasn't something that big, suggesting it was just a field mouse or a smaller bird. It was too far off for Karl to have an opinion. He said as much.

The discussion between Westcroft and Garish soon started to take on the tone of an argument. It reminded Karl of those stupid arguments back in Chorrol between Henrik and Catius, when they had nothing better to do.

Eventually, it seemed that all it took was a threatening glare from Garish to persuade Westcroft to let the matter drop. Karl held no objection to the lengthy silence that followed as they continued onward along the road.

* * *

><p>For the better part of about three hours, the three Guild Fighters maintained a steady march along the road, travelling in a generally north-westerly direction. Wayrest had long since disappeared from view behind the lightly forested hillsides. The high country and mountains beyond slowly drew nearer, but remained seemingly distant.<p>

The day had warmed up quite a bit by the time sun had reached its apex, but the mild westerly breeze kept things from becoming unpleasant.

At around that time, the tall stone towers of a fortified locality came into view in the distance toward the north-west. Of course, Karl didn't know exactly what it was. With the trees obscuring the view, he couldn't tell whether there was anything else near those towers.

He gave voice to his thoughts. "What's that place?"

Garish responded first. "Menevia."

"That a city?"

"Hnh." Garish grunted ironically. "That's just the towers of the old castle. These days, it's more of a township with lots of farms nearby."

Westcroft spoke up. "Used to be an important city. Back before the Miracle of Peace."

Karl had some idea of what he meant. Back in Cyrodiil, that was more often referred to as The Warp in the West. He'd read some books about it, but it wasn't all that easy to make clear sense of anything but the broad details. Nearly seventy years before, some ancient Dwemer artefact was reassembled and used to reshape the political landscape of the Iliac Bay region. The overall outcome was in favour of the current Emperor and the four local rulers that participated directly.

Westcroft continued. "Yeah, back in those days, just about every place in High Rock was its own kingdom. They say that were more than thirty separate kingdoms across all of High Rock back then. Menevia is part of Wayrest now, just like Alclaire and Gavaudon and some other places." He paused only to catch his breath. "Must've been real different around here back in those old days."

Garish interjected with a touch of annoyance in his voice. "The Lord of Menevia answers to the Queen of Wayrest now. That ain't gonna change anytime soon."

"Yeah, got it." Karl's tone was intended to discourage Westcroft from going on about it any further. Apparently, he took the hint.

Just a short while later, at Garish's direction, they turned off along a lesser road headed inland toward the north-east. It was actually marked with a smaller signpost, indicating that Reytry was in that direction. It was far less obvious than the more prominent signs along the main road pointing toward Menevia and Alclaire.

A short way along that road, they stopped for a brief rest under a shady tree at the crest of a hill. After taking a piss break, they had something to eat and drink from their rations.

Then soon enough, they were back on the road again. That lesser road remained fairly straight for only a short distance. As the terrain became more rugged, the road became far more winding.

Even while keeping an eye on the position of the sun, the road seemed to turn about so much that Karl just about lost track of which direction they were headed. In a roundabout fashion, their progress seemed to be taking them further north and most of it was uphill.

Karl took his cues from Garish, keeping a wary eye out for trouble. With the winding road and steep rocky hillsides obscuring a clear view in any direction, it was hard to spot what hidden dangers might be lurking just out of sight. Just about every turn looked like a perfect place for an ambush.

Garish had reminded them of the possibility of encountering raiders in the high country, but so far nothing like that had come to pass.

At one point, the distant howl of a wolf put them on alert. Although that particular wolf didn't sound so close, it served as a clear reminder that others could be nearby.

For the most part, the only wildlife they encountered was the birds. The occasional screech of a circling hawk contrasted with the chirping noises of smaller birds and insects that remained out of clear view in bushes and trees. There seemed to be a lot of crows up in the high country as well. The regular cawing broadcast their presence, even when they couldn't be seen.

It was getting fairly late in the afternoon when something threatened to alter the strained calm of their journey.

Karl hadn't immediately noticed the lull of ambient noise coming from the birds and insects. If Garish had noticed, he hadn't said anything. It was only when Westcroft pulled up abruptly that Karl suddenly became aware of the quiet, then spotted the figure atop the rocky outcrop above the road on the right-hand side.

Garish and Karl also stopped just a few paces from the Breton.

The danger was obvious. A great hulking ogre stood upon the ridge staring down at them with its beady eyes. Other than slightly swaying on its feet, the pale giant remained relatively motionless.

Karl always hated those things. Aside from the obvious danger, he hated that they looked vaguely human or merish. Their bulky bodies were pretty much like a man's, but outside of normal proportion. If not for the light gray pallor, their tiny little heads looked almost Orcish, except that there was no sign of anything much going on inside. They were about as dumb as farm cows, but twenty times more dangerous.

Westcroft whispered to Garish. "What do you want to do?"

Garish kept his gaze directed toward the cliff-top. "Nothin'. It won't be comin' down that cliff face. Too steep. It's just eyeballin' us."

"Yeah." Karl agreed. "That ain't the one we need ta worry about. Only need ta worry if there's more of 'em about."

Garish glanced to Karl with a grunt of approval. "Yeah. We should just keep a look out for others."

Karl nodded in the direction of the road ahead. Garish took his meaning and resumed the journey, keeping a sharp eye alerted to trouble. Westcroft kept glancing back toward the lone ogre until it was out of sight. Even then, he kept glancing backward long afterward, concerned that it might have found a path down to the road to follow them.

Karl wasn't too concerned. The three of them could probably handle a single ogre as long as they were careful. He'd only be worried if there was a group of them.

In any event, ogres weren't much for chasing things over any sort of distance, so he didn't expect to see that one again. They didn't seem to have the stamina for running very far. It was only up close that they were really dangerous. They might be stupid, but they were powerful and surprisingly quick in close quarters.

Remaining suitably cautious, the trio maintained a steady pace. Garish was determined to make their destination before darkness set in. Of course, Karl had no argument with that.

* * *

><p>After cresting a rise in the road, a small flat valley opened up in the high country. The sun was just setting on the western horizon as the small township finally came into view.<p>

The town itself looked to be a grouping of about twenty odd structures. Most of them were lined up along either side of a main street. A number of small farms were haphazardly spread out around the main cluster, making the place seem a bit larger in overall area. Most of the farms were crop farms, but some ran livestock.

Few words had passed between the three Guild Fighters since spotting that lone ogre a few hours earlier. They'd been far more occupied with maintaining vigilance during the arduous march than passing the time with idle chatter. With their immediate destination in view, the need for such caution seemed to have passed.

Looking toward the town, Westcroft passed a comment. "It doesn't look like much."

Karl looked to the Breton with mild curiosity.

Westcroft responded with a shrug. "I've never been this far up here before."

"Comon." Garish urged them onward. "It's getting' dark an' I'm getting' hungry."

There was no argument with that sentiment.

As the sun disappeared beyond the distant horizon, the three Guild Fighters followed the dirt road across the open valley, down toward the township. Neither of the moons had yet risen in the sky and darkness was setting in as they closed on the dim lights in the windows of the houses.

Karl spoke up as they reach the edge of town. "There gonna be somewhere to stay in this town?"

Garish answered. "Yeah, should be. There's just the one tavern here, but there oughta be some rooms for rent. It ain't like they get lots of travellers up here every day."

Since Garish seemed to know exactly where he was going, the other two just followed him along the main street that ran through the middle of town.

Though the obvious places of business along the street were dark and closed up for the day, two of the buildings looked like general stores of some sort and a third looked to be a blacksmith operation.

The Reytry Trader's Inn was located near to the middle of town. It was clearly signed and one of the few places with a lantern burning outside of its front door. The muffled noises coming from inside were an indication that there were more than a few people in there.

Garish paused by the front door, glancing to his comrades. "Ain't likely ta be so many friendly faces in here. Long as we keep to ourselves, shouldn't be any trouble."

Karl returned a nod and a grunt of acknowledgment. He held a fair understanding of what to expect.

Westcroft looked slightly less assured, but tried to hide it behind a confident nod.

Garish pushed the door open and they stepped inside. After a short moment, the level of noise in the tavern seemed to drop slightly. There were more than a few curious looks cast in their immediate direction.

Perhaps a third of the faces in the tavern were Orcish. The greater number of them looked to be Breton, or possibly some mix of Imperial or Nord. A pair of Dunmer seemed to stand out as notably different, though they still looked like they belonged there.

There were clearly more men than women in the tavern. Many looked fairly rough and rugged in appearance. Some looked like farmers. Some others, not so much.

Garish gestured toward the main service counter of the tavern and they headed in that direction. From behind the counter, the unshaven Breton man with thinning gray hair cast a wary eye as the trio of strangers approached. He looked to be fairly old, but not at all frail.

The barkeep spoke in guarded tone. "You lads don't look like you're from around these parts. What brings you to Reytry?"

Garish responded first. "Yeah well, I atcherlly came from around here, back when I was just a young fella. Ain't been back lately, but I've been to this place before."

The barkeep studied him with a frown. "Have you now? Can't say I recognise you."

"Like I said, ain't been here lately."

"You didn't say what you're doing here. I'm hope you're not here for trouble."

Garish shook his head slightly and shrugged. "Ain't lookin' for no trouble. Just passin' through."

The old Breton's gaze flickered across each of the three strangers. "I hope you lads know to keep those weapons sheathed. You go starting anything in my inn and there'll be consequences."

Garish smiled humourlessly. "We ain't here to start nothin'. Like I said, just passin' through. We're Fighters Guild, just come up from Wayrest."

The barkeep returned a suspicious expression. "I'm not aware of any good reason for Fighters Guild to be up here."

Garish responded quickly. "There ain't. We're just passin' through on our way over to Ripwold. We're just lookin' for food an' drink an' rooms for the night."

The old Breton seemed to pause for a lengthy moment before responding. "I've only the two rooms available and they're none too fancy."

Garish answered for the others. "Don't need fancy. I can share with the smaller fella an' my bigger friend can take the other." He glanced to his comrades. Neither expressed any objection.

The barkeep seemed satisfied enough as he negotiated the exchange of coin for accommodation and the same for food and drink.

Karl wouldn't have been surprised to learn that the barkeep had been gouging with his prices, but nothing seemed any more expensive than typical city pricing. In fact, Karl suspected that he might have charged more if he knew that his prices were so fair.

Soon enough, the three Guild Fighters were sitting about a cramped table just near the main counter with ales and hot meals. The food didn't last long and nor did the ales.

Westcroft had enthusiastically acquired three more ales from the barkeep. He seemed slightly miffed when Garish insisted that he make it his last one. Karl agreed, suggesting that they should plan to rise early and have their wits about them on the road. Westcroft didn't seem pleased, but he knew better than to argue.

It was still relatively early as they retired to their rented rooms, but late enough that none were likely to find it difficult to get to sleep. At least from Karl's perspective, that long march along the road had him feeling like he was ready to nod off as soon he lay down.

That expectation wasn't too far off the mark. Karl's mind kept him awake only a short while as his thoughts drifted over some things he'd previously read about the old Orsinium territories before the sacking of the city a few decades earlier.

Before long, those thoughts had given way to the call of slumber as he dreamed about some oddly mixed up version of his early childhood years in Orcrest.

~O~


	18. Chapter 18

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 18

Morndas the 21st of Midyear 4E49

Karl gro-Baroth woke with the morning birds of the dawn. It took him just a moment to recall where he was that morning. The muffled din of the previous evening's tavern noises had long since faded away to relative silence. Since his room was situated on the western side of the Reytry Trader's Inn, opposite the rising sun, it was only the calls of those birds from outside that stirred him from his peaceful slumber.

Avoiding the temptation to linger any longer, with a yawn, he rolled from the lumpy bed and got up, then made use of the chamber pot provided. After taking a sip from his flask, he stepped over to the basin on the side-table and splashed water upon his face. He noted the rough bristles rising on his face, but chose to ignore that. He didn't feel like dealing with it.

Once he was dressed in his armour, the big Orc gathered up his gear and headed out into the tavern area. The place looked a lot different in the light of day. For one thing, there was just about nobody in there. The only sign of movement was an older Breton woman picking her way from table to table, cleaning up after the activities of the previous evening. She glanced at Karl briefly, acknowledging his presence, but it seemed like she wasn't about to drop what she was doing until she was good and ready.

Karl figured that he'd just take a seat by that table near the main counter and wait.

Just then, Garish gro-Yargol emerged from the door of his rented room. After glancing about, he headed in Karl's direction.

"Mornin'." Karl mumbled in a perfunctory fashion.

"Mornin'." Garish responded in kind.

"Westcroft?"

"Woke him up. Should be along soon 'nuff."

Karl returned a grunt and a nod as Garish settled into a chair at the table.

After observing that the Breton woman was in no hurry to attend service and that Westcroft was being slow to get himself together, the younger Orc turned to Karl with a cautious curiosity. "So, what exactly we s'posed to be lookin' for in Ripwold?"

Karl shrugged mildly. "You two are just taggin' along cos Wickfield reckoned I needed some company." He paused, quickly recognising that Garish expected something more than he already knew. "Yeah, I'm lookin' for someone. An Orc from Ripwold that got locked up in Wayrest a coupla months back. Apparently, he'd mentioned some other names… an' one 'em sounds real familiar. Uzgark gro-Baroth." He paused on that name. "The old man's name was Baroth gro-Uzgark. So, it sounds like I might I have some kin up here that I didn't know about. I figured I'd take a quick look into that."

"Makes sense." Garish accepted.

A moment later, Kenneth Westcroft finally shuffled out into the tavern area, looking like he would've rather been sleeping for a while longer. By then, the old Breton woman seemed to have decided she was ready to see them, since all three men were sitting and waiting at the table.

The old woman recognised that they were expecting to get some food. Though she offered service, her manner was gruff and not terribly accommodating. It seemed that as though she just wanted them to be on their way as soon as possible.

Since the choices on offer were bread, soup or nothing, they settled on the soup. It wasn't particularly appetising, but it was better than marching on an empty belly.

Soon enough, the three Guild Fighters had finished their meals and loaded up with their belongings. They departed the inn and headed off down the road through Reytry.

Before they'd left the centre of town, Westcroft raised the issue of what they were expecting to find in Ripwold. Karl wearily repeated a shorter version of what he'd already told Garish. Garish added that it was just their job to help Karl with any trouble along the way. His tone carried the firm suggestion that the younger Breton didn't need to know any more than that. Westcroft took the hint and they continued onward in silence.

* * *

><p>Before too long, the trio of Guild Fighters had passed by the last of the farms on the outskirts of the township. They'd not spoken with anyone since leaving the inn. The main street of Reytry had been empty as they passed though. A farmer in a field had cast an unwelcome glance in their direction, but no more than that, not even offering a gesture of acknowledgment.<p>

Karl had been thinking that most places back in Cyrodiil were usually fairly friendly when it came to Guild Fighters passing through town. Things were obviously different around those parts. He kept those thoughts to himself. There was no point in questioning the obvious.

Out of Reytry, the road ahead turned toward the north in the direction of a pass between two taller hillsides. That path appeared to remain fairly open and straight until leaving the flat valley that cradled the township and surrounding farms.

The morning seemed pretty much like the last couple of days. The skies appeared relatively clear with just a few light clouds. Another mild summer's day looked likely. There was no notable breeze just yet, but it was still early.

By the time that the township had disappeared from view, the terrain soon become more rugged as the narrow road carved its winding path through the foothills of the high country. In most places, that road seemed barely wide enough to accommodate a modest sized wagon, as indicated by the deep ruts left behind by wheels at the edges of either side of the path. The worn condition of the road seemed the only evidence that it was regularly travelled. Otherwise, they seemed to have the road to themselves.

Stretching along both to the east and west of their position, the Wrothgarian Mountains loomed above to the north, though the taller peaks seemed quite a ways off. The path ahead offered only a restricted view, with little indication of their intended destination.

Looking out toward the north-west, as far as Karl could see, there was nothing obvious ahead of them but the sparsely wooded hills and rocky outcrops and of course, those taller mountains beyond.

Karl gave voice to the obvious question. "How far to this Ripwold?"

Keeping his eyes on the road ahead, Garish shrugged. "Might take a while."

Karl glanced to other Orc. "Wickfield reckoned it was only about a day's travel or maybe just a bit more than that."

Garish shrugged again. "She was probably thinkin' about travel on horseback, goin' hard with no delays. Reckon we might get there around midday or somethin' like that."

Karl grunted his acceptance, concentrating on the road ahead.

"Hope the taverns in Ripwold have better food." Westcroft grumbled.

Neither Orc responded, but both probably agreed with that sentiment. They continued onward in silence, keeping a sharp eye out for any signs of dangers or trouble along the road ahead.

As it passed, they'd encountered no one along the winding road since leaving that town behind. It remained quiet except for the sounds they made as they marched along road, the occasional call of birds and the rustling of leaves from the light breeze that eventually came up.

The only notable cause for alarm came from a skittish fox unexpectedly dashing from some underbrush. It bolted along the road for a short distance before disappearing over the hillside at the side of the road.

They'd been on the road for a good two hours before the first signs of civilisation appeared, in the form of some recently fresh horse-shit on the road. It was just a short time later that a small town came into view up ahead.

Cresting a hill, Karl observed the settlement situated upon broad flat hill. It didn't look like much. There looked to be no more than seven or eight wooden houses and a couple of small farms. It looked like more of a village than a town.

Karl spoke up. "What's this then?"

Westcroft shrugged, having no idea.

"Midpath Hill." Garish offered. "Ain't any friendlier to outsiders than Reytry." He pointed to a shady tree next to the road. "Wanna take a break? I need ta piss anyway."

"Yeah, sounds good." Karl agreed easily enough.

Westcroft looked like he didn't need to be asked twice.

They soon sat down to briefly rest their legs and drink some water. None of them were feeling particularly hungry just yet.

Karl noticed a pass through the rough terrain north of the village. It looked like there was a road up there. He gestured in that direction. "That head up to old Orsinium?"

Garish nodded. "Yeah. The ruins of the city are up there. Nothin' much to see. There are a few Orcish villages further up. Lots of them traditional strongholds higher up in the mountains."

Karl looked to the mountains. "You came from around here?"

"Yeah, my folks did. From a village like the one on that hill. It's gone now."

Karl returned a curious glance.

"It useta be near Orsinium. Was just a nipper when we lost our village. The Imperial Legion helped my folks and the others gettin' out of there ahead of the invaders looking to attack Orsinium, back then."

"Heard stories like that before." Karl acknowledged. "What happened to your folks?"

"We lived up in the mountains for a while, in another village."

"They still there?"

"My younger brother is. He stayed up in the mountain country after our parents died. Got a few cousins and such up there in places. Older brother joined up with the Legion once he was old enough. I went with the Fighters Guild. Suits me better."

Karl looked to Westcroft. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet during that discourse.

Westcroft shrugged. "I grew up in Wayrest. Lived there all my life. Not much to tell."

Karl returned a muffled grunt, not openly encouraging him to elaborate.

Soon enough, the three Guild Fighters were back on their way along the road.

Curious glares from an Orcish farmer at the edge of the village appeared to set the tone of their passage through the settlement. He looked to be casting a harsh expression of disapproval, encouraging them to just keep moving along. Of course, they had no intention of stopping there anyway.

As intended, the trio passed through the small village at Midpath Hill without notable incident. The few people that were outside to notice them had kept their distance, taking only passing interest in the strangers. None seemed inclined to invite any conversation.

In passing, Karl took note of that road that led away from the settlement toward the north. Though Garish had already told him where it went, he noticed that there were no signs to indicate the names of any of the locations in that direction.

As Midpath Hill disappeared behind them, the terrain quickly returned to the look of that rugged country they'd passed through earlier. Accordingly, the road ahead also became just as rough and winding.

* * *

><p>About half an hour out from Midpath Hill, the narrow road came to a deceptive split just past a crumbling rocky outcrop. The main road veered off toward a narrow wooden bridge that crossed over a steep ravine. It looked only just wide enough for a smaller wagon. The less worn path went only a short way before ending in a pile of rubble by a cliff face.<p>

Karl gave Garish a questioning glance.

Garish sighed. "Yeah, this area gets a lot of landslides. Especially when the mountains quake or there's heavy rains. From what I hear, it's been that way since the Miracle of Peace."

Karl returned a curt nod, returning his gaze to the road ahead. "That bridge awright?"

Garish chuckled dryly "Should be. Long as the ground don't pick today to quake."

Westcroft's expression indicated that he didn't find that particularly funny.

Responding to Garish's gesture, they continued onward.

About half-way across the rickety bridge, the call of an owl came from somewhere not far behind. Karl had just been thinking that it was a bit unusual to hear owls calling out like that during the daytime. That was when a different kind of noise came from somewhere ahead.

Three riders on horseback suddenly crested the rise in the road ahead, moving at a heady pace toward them.

"This looks like trouble." Karl suggested.

"Reckon so." Garish agreed grimly.

"Behind us." Westcroft drew the attention of his comrades. He already had his sword and shield at the ready.

Three more rough looking men had emerged on foot from behind that rocky outcrop back before the bridge and were dashing forward with weapons drawn.

Garish and Karl simultaneously drew their larger two-handed weapons.

"Looks like we found ourselves some raiders." Karl grimaced.

"Yeah. Good thing there's only six." Garish maintained a grim confidence.

"Should we?" Westcroft posed an open question.

Karl responded. "We turn this around. Use the narrow bridge to our advantage."

Garish looked like he understood. Westcroft's silence seemed to indicate the same.

The three riders had reached the edge of the bridge and quickly bounced down from their mounts. Two looked like Bretons and a third was an Orc. The other three advancing from the other end of the bridge all looked to be Bretons or similar.

Garish and Westcroft stood ready to engage the three from behind that were about close on their position. Karl had a little more time before the other three would reach them. They were smart enough not to try attacking from horseback on that bridge. He was hoping that they weren't too much smarter than that.

Just as Karl heard the noises of the melee commencing at his back, he surged forward to take control of the battle ahead. His immediate plan was to keep them bunched up and off balance. His first blow connected solidly with the shield of one of the Bretons, knocking him on his arse and obstructing the path of the other Breton just behind him. That much of his plan went well enough.

His next strikes concentrated on the Orc, trying to push him back into the other two. After the exchange of a couple of blocked strikes, a lucky blow from Karl's battleaxe launched the Orcish raider over the edge of the bridge, down toward the rocks of the ravine below.

That seemed to even up the odds in Karl's favour. It briefly crossed his mind that he might have just killed the Orc he was looking for, but he didn't have time to think about that. As he considered the two Bretons manoeuvring into position, he bumped into an armoured body at his back.

Both Karl and Garish hesitated briefly before realising that they'd connected with one another. It seemed they literally had each other's back. Almost immediately, their attention returned to the matter at hand with renewed vigour.

As Karl relied upon the greater reach of his battleaxe to keep those two Bretons at bay, he was just briefly distracted by the bloodied body of one the raiders landing just at his right foot. Fortunately, those two in front of him were just as distracted. His renewed attacks managed only to deflect one opponent's sword and slightly stagger the one with the shield. He had yet to land any effective blows, but he kept at it.

The noise of the battle behind Karl continued. Since he was busy dealing with his own problems, he had no good idea how the other two were faring. He just needed to trust that they knew what they were doing.

Another frantic shout was heard as a second body sailed from the bridge into the ravine. Karl didn't have the opportunity to see who it was. He hoped it was one of the raiders.

It turned out that the noises of the clashing behind must have turned out in their favour, since Garish had turned about to join Karl in taking on those two Bretons.

With both Orcs opposing the raiders, things were soon brought to a favourable conclusion. At least, as far as Karl and Garish were concerned. The Breton attackers weren't left in any position to offer any argument. They wouldn't be arguing with anyone ever again.

Garish and Karl exchanged open grins of satisfaction. Garish's expression quickly turned to alarm as he cast his glance back toward the eastern end of the bridge. He rushed past Karl in a hurry.

Karl observed what had motivated the other Orc. Westcroft was down with the raiders. A pool of blood beginning to soak the boards beneath his prone body.

Garish dropped to his knees to examine his fallen comrade.

"Ah, shit." Karl muttered under his breath.

"Westcroft." Garish tried to rouse the Breton. "Kenneth." He tried to see exactly where he'd been injured, then rummaged through his satchel, withdrawing a healing potion.

Karl looked on, observing quietly.

Garish tried to get the healing potion into the Breton's mouth, but he appeared completely unresponsive.

Karl quickly recognised that Westcroft wasn't breathing at all. "Garish, ain't no point. He's dead."

Garish's shoulders slumped as he stopped trying to administer the potion. "Bastards. Bastards killed Kenneth."

Karl sighed. "This ain't what I was planning on." He glanced about again, checking that nobody else was around.

Garish still hadn't moved from Westcroft's side. He shook his head. "Wickfield's gonna pop her lid."

"Ain't yer fault. No more than it's mine or his."

Garish nodded grimly. "Yeah, I s'pose." He released a heavy sigh. "Least them bastards won't be troublin' no one else."

"Yeah." Karl nodded. There wasn't much else to say.

Garish took up Westcroft's blade and slid it back into its sheath. He pushed his shield up his arm until the straps held it in place. "Leaving him behind ain't right. He oughta be buried back in Wayrest."

"Yeah well, looks like they've left us some horses."

Garish nodded grimly. "I s'pose it don't matter now." He was referring to a previous comment he'd made about horses attracting raiders.

Before going any further, the two Orcs took the time to tend to their wounds. Garish had just a few cuts and scrapes. He just wiped them clean, figuring a healing potion would handle the rest. Added to his own minor cuts and scrapes, Karl had a nasty gash on his right arm that required a bit of extra attention. After cleaning it, he made do with a makeshift bandage cut from a shirt.

Garish rifled through the meagre possessions of the raiders. He didn't really expect to find anything that would identify them. Aside from a small amount of coin and some less expensive jewellery, one of them had an ebony dagger that might be of some value. He placed all of that inside Westcroft's satchel.

Karl helped Garish toss the bodies of the raiders over the side of the bridge into the ravine below. Garish's expression carried a mix of contempt and satisfaction with the task.

Karl was carrying a measure of guilty disappointment over the demise of Westcroft, but he kept it to himself. He didn't get in the way of Garish lifting his fallen comrade and carrying him over to the horses.

Once Westcroft's body was firmly secured on the back of a horse, they were on their way again, riding toward the township of Ripwold.

* * *

><p>Karl and Garish rode onward in silence. The third horse carrying Westcroft had been tied off to Garish's saddle, trailing along just behind him.<p>

They pair moved along at a pace only slightly faster than if they'd been marching on foot. Though it was certainly much easier going travelling on horseback, they weren't about to let their guard down. They still needed to keep a sharp eye out for any further dangers and they also wanted to be able to respond quickly if the need arose.

At one point along the journey, they'd been alerted by the noises of what sounded like a bear clashing with a wolf or something like that. However, it seemed to be nowhere near the road. The commotion came from somewhere out of view, behind a rocky hillside. They maintained a healthy measure of caution, but nothing actually crossed their path.

The sun had passed its apex at least an hour before they finally caught a glimpse of a township in the distance. Garish confirmed that it was Ripwold. It was still at least a good half-hour away, but at least the destination was in sight.

Along that final stretch past the wheat fields just outside of town, Garish looked to have something on his mind. Since there was no longer any great need for vigilance, he looked to Karl and gave voice to his thoughts. "You didn't come all the way up here just to follow rumours of kin, didja?"

Karl shook his head slightly. "Not exactly. Just figured I'd fit that in while I was up here." He paused briefly. "I was just down in Sentinel, looking to set up a proper Fighters Guild operation in that city." He shrugged. "Since I was sorta nearby, I figured I'd come up to Wayrest an' try to encourage friendly relations with the local Guildhalls. I figured that even if the Guildhalls of High Rock are all answerin' to local coin, we should still all be talkin' to one another an' least actin' like we're part of the same Guild."

Garish nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I s'pose that sounds smart. Maybe that'd bring more attention to the outlyin' areas that don't get much of that."

"Yeah, maybe."

They fell silent again as they looked toward the township. Karl was still feeling guilt over Garish losing his comrade, but said nothing. There was nothing to say that would make it any better.

The town of Ripwold looked a fair bit larger than Reytry. It appeared maybe about twice the size of that other town. Some of the farms looked a bit bigger as well.

Outside of Ripwold's centre, there was nobody about but the goats in a penned off field that served to keep them from getting at the crop fields. There didn't seem to be anybody around out on the main street either.

Arriving at the outskirts of town, Garish gestured toward the stabling facilities. It was obvious what he meant. The place was one of the buildings located nearest to the edge of the town.

Upon reaching the stables, a middle aged Breton man with a rough straggly beard and balding head emerged from the shed with a somewhat annoyed expression on his heavily lined face. They had yet to dismount the horses.

He spoke gruffly. "What do you fellas want?"

Garish responded first. "These horses need stablin'."

The Breton sized them up for a moment. "You got the coin?"

Karl glanced to Garish, but remained silent, deferring to the other Orc.

Garish answered. "That ain't no problem. We're Fighters Guild."

The Breton rubbed his bearded chin, again examining the pair of Orcs through narrowed eyes. "Don't get Fighters Guild up this way for no reason."

Getting down from his horse, Garish hesitated in responding to the comment.

Karl spoke up. "I'm lookin' for someone. Might be some lost kin." He also climbed down from his mount.

"What about that other fella?" The Breton indicated the limp body strapped to the third horse.

Garish responded. "He's one of us. We ran into raiders along the road."

The Breton nodded with an expression of distaste. "Hope you gave 'em what for."

Garish grimaced. "Won't be causin' more trouble for no one, if ya get my meanin'."

"Yeah well, if you got the coin, the horses can stay, but you can't go leavin' no bodies around here."

Garish glared at the Breton. "When we're done here, we're taking him back with us to Wayrest."

"Fair enough, but you still can't leave him here." Sensing Garish's rising ire, the Breton raised his hands disarmingly. "You should take him over to old Gharza at the alchemy store."

Garish frowned. "Why is that?"

"Gharza gra-Olum runs the alchemy store, but she also manages the graveyard."

"We ain't leavin' him in Ripwold." Garish protested.

"Didn't say that. She has a place where you can keep him. At least until you're ready to head out again."

"Right then." Garish grunted.

As Garish looked to unstrapping Westcroft from the horse, Karl fixed up the Breton for the cost of stabling the horses. Since he was handing over gold, he figured that it was as good a time as any to start asking around about those specific Orcs he was hoping to find in Ripwold.

"You heard of an Orc who goes by Borgul gro-Yamok?"

The Breton returned a suspicious gaze. After a lengthy pause he responded. "You wanna know about that, you talk to Gharza."

"She knows him?"

"Like I said, you talk to Gharza about that."

"What about somebody called Uzgark gro-Baroth?"

The Breton glared again. "You'd best go see Gharza."

"I'll do that." Karl was fighting the rising urge to engage in some unfriendly persuasion. He stepped back and went to help Garish get Westcroft hoisted over his shoulder.

"What was that about?" Garish grunted, shifting under the weight of his comrade.

"Just askin' about the Orcs I'm lookin' for?"

Garish returned a questioning glance as they started moving off along the street.

Karl shook his head in mild frustration. "Sounds to me like he knows who I'm after, but he ain't sayin'. Reckons I should talk to that Gharza."

"Well, that's what we'll hafta do then." Garish stated the obvious.

They didn't have far to go and Garish seemed to know where they were headed. The alchemy store was just up the street a short way on the right-hand side. Karl held the door open as Garish shuffled past, taking care not to do any further damage to his comrade's body.

An old Orcish woman came out from the back to see who was there. She looked to the strangers with raised eyebrows. Her expression soon turned to a frown as she took note of the body over Garish's shoulder.

"What do you want?"

"You Gharza?" Garish asked the question.

"Gharza gra-Olum. What do you want?"

"We're Fighters Guild. Had some trouble with raiders on the way over here. Need somewhere to put our friend until we head out again."

"You're not lookin' ta bury him?"

"Not here. We're takin' him back to Wayrest. Just can't leave him at the stables."

"Wayrest." Gharza sneered, further exposing her protruding canines. "Either way, it'll still cost ya."

"We got the coin."

Since Karl had his hands free, he settled the account with Gharza.

"Good enough. C'mon then, out the back with him. I got just the place."

Garish followed the old Orcish woman out the back with his burden. Karl just waited about in the store to avoid getting in the way. They both returned soon enough.

Gharza grumbled. "That's that then. Don't you fellas go leavin' him for too long. Don't want him stinkin' up the cellar."

"There's one more thing." Garish glanced to his companion.

Karl spoke up. "I'm lookin' for an Orc by the name of Borgul gro-Yamok. The fella at the stables says I oughta talk to you."

Gharza studied him suspiciously. "Why are ya lookin' for him?"

"I hear he might know about another Orc called Uzgark gro-Baroth."

"Uzgark, huh? Well, Borgul's not here. Sent him out into the foothills to collect some things for me."

"When's he back?"

"Dunno. Before dark, I expect."

"What about this Uzgark?"

"Why you lookin'?" Gharza didn't seem likely to budge too easily.

"Name's Karl gro-Baroth. I figure he might be kin."

She glared at him with an odd expression. "You don't sound like you're from around these parts."

"Was born in Orcrest, but spent most my years in Cyrodiil. Heard my old man was headed for Orsinium when he disappeared, so I figure it ain't impossible that there might be someone around these parts with his name."

Gharza still wasn't shifting her position too easily, but she seemed like she was giving some small ground. "Tell ya what. You fellas head on over to the inn an' I'll let Borgul know you're stayin' in town."

"Fair enough." Karl recognised that there was no point in arguing with the old Orc woman. At least not if he expected to get any help from her.

The pair of Guild Fighters left Gharza's store and headed back out onto the main street on Ripwold.

Karl gave some brief thought to the exchange with Gharza and to Garish's part in the conversations. He glanced back at the alchemy store, then cast a sideways look in Garish's direction. "Thought you'd been to this town before?"

Garish shrugged. "Yeah, I have, but not for a fair while. Ain't had no reason to deal with that Gharza before."

Karl returned a grunt of acknowledgment.

Garish directed their path toward the centre of town. He told Karl that there were two taverns in Ripwold, but only one had rooms for hire, as far he knew from the last time he was there. He suggested that was the one that Gharza must have been referring to.

By then, it was getting on in the afternoon, but still a few hours before dark. They bypassed The Superior Tavern. From the outside, it didn't look like it earned its name. They headed for the High Wold Inn, located across the other side of the street. That place didn't look much better.

Just as they neared the inn, a ruckus could be heard coming from the far end of town. Slightly alarmed by the noise, the two Orcs looked in that direction just in time to see a rowdy bunch of children emerging from a small building near that far end of the main street. A lot of them looked like they were probably Breton or the like, but there were more than a few Orcish children among them. Some were very young and some a bit older. Karl was briefly put in mind of his childhood days in Chorrol, more than thirty years earlier.

Arriving at the inn, Garish pushed open the door and they stepped inside. It took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting inside. There looked to be no one about but the dark haired Breton man behind the main service counter of the tavern.

In a cautiously friendly fashion, the barkeep introduced himself as Elbert. It wasn't obvious whether that was his first or last name. After looking to Garish a couple of times, he'd asked whether he'd seen him before. Garish volunteered that he'd been to Ripwold before, but not recently. He also volunteered that they were Fighters Guild, but they weren't looking for any trouble. That didn't do much to affect the barkeep's manner.

The two Orcs negotiated with Elbert to secure the rent of two rooms for the night. He seemed happy enough to take their coin. He also appeared just as accommodating to provide food and drink. As long he was taking gold, he remained obliging enough.

The barkeep's demeanour shifted notably once Karl asked about Borgul gro-Yamok and Uzgark gro-Baroth. Just like the man over at the stables, he wasn't giving anything away, except that they should go talk to Gharza over at the alchemy store.

Karl told him that they'd already done that, and that she said she would send Borgul to the inn when he got back from wherever he'd gone.

Elbert advised that he'd send Borgul their way when he saw him, but maintained a guarded posture.

The pair of Orcs headed over to a table with their food and drink and sat down.

Karl glanced at his food, then sipped at his ale. "Ain't makin' it easy."

Garish returned a grunt as he chewed on some food.

Karl continued. "Can't be more than a hundred people in this town, including the young'ns. Ya gotta figure that everyone knows everyone."

Garish shrugged. "Small towns don't take to strangers so easy."

"Yeah, I get it. Just gotta let things play out their way."

Garish grunted again, indicating his agreement as he concentrated on eating.

Releasing a sigh, Karl turned to his food.

* * *

><p>By the time that Garish and Karl had finished with their food and drink, there was still no sign of that Borgul. In fact, nobody else had even come into that tavern since they'd arrived there. Though it was still a bit early and it wasn't like Ripwold was such a busy place.<p>

Karl and Garish had stashed their gear away in their rooms and then returned to the tavern area to sit and wait. If only to keep the barkeep on side, they'd each purchased another mug of ale, then proceeded to nurse their drinks rather than consume them.

After a brief period of awkward and tedious silence, Karl turned to the other Orc with a question. "Since you come from around these parts, what can you tell me about what other Orcs reckon about Orsinium?"

Garish looked slightly perplexed. "Whyzat?"

"Heard the reason that Borgul got locked up in Wayrest was cos he was part of some bunch agitatin' for the Empire to do somethin' about a new Orsinium."

Garish snorted. "Fat chance of that happenin'."

Karl held some suspicions for why he might say that, but decided to provoke further response. "Way I heard it, the Queen of Wayrest was fairly neighbourly toward the idea of an Orcish state. Same with Emperor Mede."

Garish chuckled dryly. "Seems like them rulers were happy enough to declare the areas that nobody else wanted as Orcish territory, but it don't add up to having a city like old Orsinium."

Karl's expression invited him to continue.

Garish obliged. "It ain't so much about what them rulers say. Most Orcs up here just don't got it in 'em to agree on much of anything."

"Gortwog's Orsinium musta lasted nearly fifty years." Karl offered.

Garish grimaced. "Way I heard it, sooner or later, it mighta got taken out by other Orcs, if hadn't been for them other bastards. Lotsa Orcs still get real serious about the Code of Malacath. All that Trinimac stuff that Gortwog pushed, that pissed off lotsa folk."

"Howzat affect you?"

"Yeah well, I s'pose I kinda lean toward the basics. Don't steal an' don't go killin', except for the proper kinda reasons. Ain't had no special reason to be worshippin' Malacath or livin' in one of them tribal strongholds. But then, I ain't most Orcs."

"Same here."

Garish nodded. He had more say. "Look, you got them tribal Orcs living up in the mountains north of here. By their reckoning, any Orc that don't live just like them are just city-Orcs. Inferior in their eyes. Even the Orcish folk in small towns and villages like this are still just city-Orcs." He took a quick sip of his ale. "Even those stronghold types in the Wrothgarian Mountains don't agree with one another. Always warrin' about somethin'. A bunch of 'em took off for The Reach of High Rock to set up there. I hear some of 'em even headed for empty parts in the north of Hammerfell and Skyrim." He shook his head. "Can't get an Orsinium city if ya can't get Orcs to come together to have it."

Karl nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I get that." He'd already figured a fair bit of what Garish had been telling him, but it helped to hear it directly from someone that ought to know.

They sat quietly with their drinks for a while. When further conversations arose, they avoided further talk of Orcish turmoils, instead exchanging talk of the differences between how the Fighters Guild operated in their respective regions.

By the time it had started to get dark, Elbert had gone about the tavern area lighting a few sparsely placed lamps and candles. That didn't do all that much to make the place look any better lit than it seemed during the daytime.

Pretty soon, people started to come into the tavern, one or two at a time. Some were there for meals. Others were just there to drink. At any given time, there were probably no more than twelve or thirteen other people in the tavern. Quite a few of them had been male Orcs, but none came to see the two Guild Fighters sitting at the table.

By the time that most people had come and gone and it was starting grow later in the evening, there had still been no sign of that Borgul. More than once, Karl had checked with Elbert to learn whether the Orc they were waiting for had come into the tavern.

Eventually, it came to the point when just about everybody else had left the tavern and it seemed pretty obvious that Borgul wasn't coming in. Sure enough, Karl was pissed off with that circumstance, but he was feeling too tired to feed that emotion any further. He resigned to calling it a night and resolved to go see Gharza again the next morning. He was determined to see that he hadn't come all that way just to leave empty-handed.

~O~


	19. Chapter 19

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 19

Tirdas the 22nd of Midyear 4E49

For the second time that morning, Karl gro-Baroth awoke with a start. Observing the daylight streaming in through the small window, he sluggishly dragged himself up into a seated position. Getting up from the bed, he yawned and stretched, then headed for the chamber pot with some urgency.

He vaguely recalled waking up some time before the dawn to take a piss. His sleep had been disturbed by a weird dream that he couldn't quite recall. He'd thought that the rickety bed had been swaying and shaking, but he'd just put that down to the ale he'd consumed the night before and had gone right back to sleep.

After that, he'd ended up sleeping a bit later than he intended. By the time he'd finally got up, it must have been nearly two hours past the dawn. Though that was still fairly early that time of year. It had to be near to the longest day of the year. He thought that it might have been the day before or maybe it was the next day. He wasn't quite sure. Though he expected there was probably some reason for it, he never did learn why the Mid Year Celebration didn't fall on the same day as the summer solstice.

After stifling another yawn and dressing in his old iron armour, Karl left his rented room at the High Wold Inn behind. Garish gro-Yargol was already sitting down at a table in the tavern area. He was looking a bit more awake than Karl was feeling. That served to remind him that the other Orc was a good couple of decades younger, or more to the point, it reminded him that he was getting old.

Garish spoke up at his approach. "Didja feel that little ground quake this mornin'?"

"Ground quake?"

Garish grinned mischievously. "Yeah, it was just a little one. Kinda felt like a bunch of wild horses gallopin' down the main street."

Karl grunted. "Thought I was just dreamin'."

"Them little quakes ain't nothin' to worry about."

Karl just took his word for it, without further comment.

A much smaller rumble came from Karl's belly as he turned his attention over toward Elbert. The Breton barkeep had his back toward them as he toiled away at something on the bench behind the main counter.

Garish knew what he was thinking. "The barkeep's still gettin' his stuff together."

Karl released a sigh and took a seat at the same table.

"So then, we goin' lookin' for that Borgul?" Garish prompted.

Karl nodded, glancing toward the Breton barkeep again. "Yeah. After I get somethin' in my belly." He paused, looking back to the other Orc. "Y'know, ya don't hafta tag along."

Garish shrugged. "Got nothin' better to be doin'. B'sides, that Gharza has still got Westcroft down in her cellar."

Karl winced slightly at the mention of Westcroft. "Y'know, I'm real sorry that he got killed followin' me up here."

Garish responded. "Ain't ya fault. He wasn't just followin' you. He was followin' me and we was both just following orders." He paused, sighing. "I'm gonna miss the little runt, but can't be helped now. Least he went down takin' out raiders. That's gotta count for somethin'."

Karl grimaced. "Yeah. Can't argue with that."

Garish had something more to add. "Y'know, my old man useta say somethin'. He useta say that it was better to go down for somethin' that mattered, than to go out for somethin' real stupid. He mighta been just a farmer, but he was still an Orc."

"Yeah." Karl easily agreed with that sentiment.

"Six less raiders causin' trouble in these parts now and Westcroft played a part in that." Garish's comment served to settle the matter for the moment.

Soon enough, Elbert was ready to attend to their requests. Since he had a light broth simmering in a pot, that was the easy choice. It was fair to assume that it probably contained something left over from last night's cooking, but as long as it was no older than that, it was likely to be good enough.

Garish took a moment to haggle over which kinds of tea that the barkeep had on offer. That seemed to be something of a feature of places in High Rock. Karl was happy enough to just settle for some water. He was still feeling like he'd had a bit too much ale the previous evening.

As it passed, the broth wasn't too bad, if just a little bit spicier than Karl would've preferred that particular morning. It was probably more watery than substantial, but nothing worth complaining about. In any event, the broth managed to hit the spot.

By the time they'd finished up and were ready to move along, it had to be after the hour of eight. It was reasonable to assume that the stores of Ripwold would be open for business by then.

* * *

><p>Leaving the High Wold Inn behind, the two Orcs headed back along the street for Gharza's alchemy store. There were just a few people out on the street that morning. As expected, those few faces that they saw didn't seem particular friendly, giving the strangers a wide berth in an obvious manner.<p>

A couple of Orcish children passed just nearby on their way toward the far end of town. The younger boy looked rather curious, but the older girl urged him onward, casting a suspicious glare toward the older Orcish strangers.

Karl and Garish soon arrived at the alchemy store and went directly inside.

The older Orcish woman was leaning over the service counter, studying the pair as they came into her store. "You fellas are good an' early."

Karl spoke first. "Yeah well, didn't see Borgul at the inn last night."

Gharza shrugged. "Got back a bit later than expected."

"Waited up fairly late for him." Karl returned.

"So I hear." Gharza's comment seemed to imply that she knew pretty much exactly how long they waited in the tavern the previous evening.

Karl tried to prompt something. "So then, what are the chances of gettin' to have a talk with Borgul?"

Gharza eyeballed each of the two Guild Fighters in turn. "Y'know, lost mosta my kin before I came here to Ripwold. Borgul's all I got left. You fellas go causin' any more trouble for my grandson an' there's gonna be a whole lot more trouble. Ya understand that?"

Garish remained quiet, deferring to Karl.

Karl tried to maintain a friendly tone. "Like I toldja, we ain't here lookin' for trouble. I'm just lookin' for some kin."

After a lengthy pause, Gharza finally called out toward the back. "Borgul. Ya can c'mon out. Reckon these fellas know better than ta cause any trouble."

The other Orc stepped out from the back area. He looked to be just a bit younger than Garish, perhaps in his late twenties. His bushy dark mane was tied off behind him. The angles of his pointed ears and the ridges on his nose marked some similarity to those of his grandmother. He didn't seem quite so big for an Orc, but he didn't look like a weakling or a runt either. Still, his expression betrayed his nervous disposition.

Borgul remained on the other side of the service counter with Gharza. He looked to his grandmother before speaking. "Gharza says you've come here from Wayrest and that you're Fighters Guild."

Karl responded. "Garish's from Wayrest. I'm from Chorrol."

Borgul returned a mildly confused expression.

"That's in Cyrodill." Karl clarified, in case he didn't know.

None of that seemed to put Borgul at ease. "I don't want no trouble, like what happened down in Wayrest."

Karl sighed. "Look, we ain't after you for nothin' about that. Just lookin' for Uzgark, cos he might be kin."

Borgul looked between the two strangers and his grandmother.

Karl continued. "What I heard, one of the people with you in Wayrest was called Uzgark gro-Baroth. Least, that's what you told the City Watch." He paused. "My old man's name was Baroth gro-Uzgark. Since he was s'posed ta be up this way when he disappeared, all them years back… well, you can see where I'm goin' with that."

Gharza interjected. "Didn't know no Baroth gro-Uzgark in person."

"What about Uzgark then?" Karl pressed.

Borgul hesitated. He didn't seem too convinced of the stranger's words. Small beads of sweat had formed at his temples.

Gharza prompted him with a measured glance.

Borgul responded, if reluctantly. "Well, yeah. I do know Uzgark."

Karl tried to clamp down on his growing frustration. "Ya gonna tell me where I can find him?" It probably came out a bit more harsh than he'd intended.

Borgul took half a step back from the counter. His expression reflected his feelings of intimidation. Then, he started babbling. "Look, we didn't mean no trouble down in Wayrest. We just wanted to get some talk goin' about doin' somethin' proper with the Orc territories, like we had with old Orsinium. Somethin' better than just being a regional territory under the protection of Wayrest. Didn't expect no big trouble like all that, but when they wouldn't see us in the palace or anythin' official like, we tried to make ourselves heard on the streets… but that didn't go so well either. Everyone else got away, but the City Watch got me and locked me up. Kept me there for weeks."

Since he'd finally paused, Karl spoke up before Borgul had the chance to start babbling again. "Look, like I said, I ain't here about that. I just want to see that Uzgark an' see if we're kin."

Gharza spoke again, maintaining an even tone. "If what you're sayin' is right about some Orc called Baroth gro-Uzgark, then it might well be possible, but I don't reckon Uzgark's gonna know nothin' more about it."

Garish shifted on his feet, but otherwise remained silent.

Karl released a sigh. "Ain't gonna know nothin' 'less we ask him."

Borgul's eyes darted back and forth before he responded. "Look, I ain't gonna be the one to send any more trouble Uzgark's way. You let me go talk to him an' see if he wants to come see you."

Karl nodded and sighed again. "Fair enough."

"You fellas gonna be stayin' at that inn?" Gharza prompted.

"Looks that way." Karl returned.

"That's where he'll find you then." Gharza's words settled the matter for the moment.

* * *

><p>Leaving Gharza's store behind, Karl and Garish stepped back out onto the street that ran up the middle of Ripwold.<p>

Looking each way along the empty street, Karl sighed. "Well, this ain't goin' as quick as I was plannin'."

"Least it's goin'." Garish offered.

"Yeah, s'pose."

"So, what now?"

Karl's expression conveyed that he thought it was a stupid question.

Garish clarified. "I mean, what are we gonna do while we're waitin'?"

Karl shrugged. Looking out toward the road they came along the day before, he could see a few farm folk out in the crop fields that morning. At least a couple of them looked like Orcs. A man of Breton appearance looked to be struggling to persuade a goat back into the penned field. He turned back to Garish. "Don't look like much to do around here."

"Nah, ain't that kinda place."

Karl gestured back toward the inn. "Might as well head back. Don't wanna be hard to find when he comes lookin' for us."

Garish grunted his assent and fell into step as they returned to the High Wold Inn.

Inside the inn, the Breton barkeep looked up as they came in. He seemed slightly surprised to see them back so soon. Since it looked like they weren't going anywhere just yet, they negotiated with Elbert to secure the rooms for a second night. The Breton seemed pleased enough to be taking more coin.

Garish quickly decided that a mug of ale was going to be a good idea if he was going to be sitting about doing nothing. Karl troubled the barkeep for a mug of tea. He still wasn't up for ale that early in the day.

The two Orcs soon retreated to a table in the poorly lit tavern area.

After taking a sip of his ale and setting it aside, Garish passed a comment. "Y'know, we coulda tried followin' that Borgul to see who he talks to."

Karl shook his head. "Wouldn'a helped. He's already skittish enough as it is. They musta done a number on him back in the lockup."

"Yeah, s'pose." Garish chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "Dunno what they was expectin'. Goin' into Wayrest like that."

Karl offered a suggestion. "Reckon they musta had some imaginary idea of what it was like back when Gortwog's Orsinium was around. An' maybe figured on someone else listenin' to 'em."

"Yeah. Ain't realistic, though."

After sipping his tea, Karl responded. "Way I heard it, it worked well enough under Wayrest's Queen Elysana and Gortwog. Least for a while."

"Yeah, but that was back then. This is now. This Queen ain't her mother. I reckon she's more inclined to just leave things the way they are. Ain't much reason to look to changin' things. Like I been sayin', a handful of Orcish villages and towns don't add up to no Orcish province an' ya can't get them tribal strongholds to agree on nothin'. An' it ain't like rebuildin' a city is gonna get them ones that run off to other parts to come back to this area."

Karl held no argument with what he was hearing, but it did provoke some other thoughts. "Y'know, it wasn't really like that down in the city of Orcrest."

Garish returned a curious expression.

Karl elaborated. "Orcrest is down in Elsweyr, south of Cyrodiil. That's where I was born. My mother died there when I was just a youngun an' it was the last place I saw my old man. After that, I was raised by their closest friend. A Nord fella, Karl Fairbeard. He's the one that brought me up to Cyrodiil an' ta Chorrol."

Garish nodded his understanding without comment. It seemed to clearly explain to any question that he might have had about Karl's upbringing.

Karl continued. "Back then, the city of Orcrest was actually ruled by a Khajiit, but the whole place was pretty much run by Orcs. There was easily lots more of us there than anyone else. Probably still pretty much the same, from what I hear. Lotsa Orcs were born and raised there, but a fair few came there from Orsinium and other parts." He paused. "I always kinda figured that Orsinium musta been a bit like Orcrest. Except for the Khajiit, 'course."

Garish shrugged. "Can't say I really got much idea what Gortwog's Orsinium was really like. Was before my time."

Karl paused to sip his tea. "Orcrest had a pretty broad mix of Orcs. Lotsa soldiers an' fighter types, but lotsa other types too. Smiths, merchants an' traders, and… even some Orcish priest types. They even had a shrine out in the desert. Some went out there to worship Malacath an' some to worship Trinimac. Apparently, it didn't matter too much which way the local Orcs leaned on that stuff, an' the cats didn't care too much one way or the other. It was really just about Orcs havin' a place they could call home. For the most part, that worked pretty well." He paused on a thought. "Was a bit of trouble with the Khajiit after the Empire pulled outa Elsweyr, but in the end, it didn't go addin' up to more than talk. Ain't been back there since, but way I heard it, Orcrest is still there and still got lotsa Orcs."

Garish grunted with an expression of ambivalence. "Sounds like they managed a whole lot better than what happened 'round here. Maybe some Orcs just gotta want it more'n they wanta fight about how they got it." He sighed and shook his head. "Don't see that happenin' 'round here."

They both fell silent, just sitting there and nursing their mugs. Each of the two Orcs seemingly lost in thought. They just waited like that for a short while. There was no great expectation that Borgul was going to turn up any time soon. Still, it was likely that both of them were hoping they'd see that other Orc sooner rather than later.

By the time that Karl had finished with his mug of tea, Garish was still sipping at his ale and doing his best to make it last.

Pondering his empty mug, Karl released a heavy sigh. Waiting around was already starting to get to him. "Reckon I might go do some readin'. Got a couple of books in my pack I been meanin' to get through."

Garish shrugged and reached for his ale again. "Can read and write enough to get by, but ain't no scholar or scribe. Except for that Guild book I hadta read, never saw no reason to do much readin'."

Karl grinned. "Y'know, back when I was still a youngun, Fairbeard useta hound me about readin' and writin' and learnin' all about the world. But back then, all I wanted was to learn about how to be good enough to get into the Fighters Guild. Eventually, I got what I thought I wanted." He paused. "After a while, I reckon I started to miss readin' stories and tales of faraway places and olden days." He sighed. "Then, once I'd ended up second-in-charge of Chorrol, got more readin' an' writin' than I wanted, with alla them reports an' contracts an' such. These days, I look forward to havin' time to just read stuff that ain't Guild documents."

Garish had politely listened, but appeared unmoved. "Anyway, don't let me keep ya from ya readin'. I can keep an eye out."

Karl returned a curt nod and got up to collect his book from his room. He'd decided to bring it back out to the tavern area. Even though Garish said he'd keep an eye out for Borgul, he didn't feel right about the leaving the task to him.

A short while later, Garish finished off that first ale. He got a refill from the barkeep, then sat back down to wait quietly. It looked like he planned to make the second ale last just as long as the first one.

Karl put in the effort to try getting through that book that he still hadn't finished. It took him a while to figure out what he had and hadn't read and get his head back into the story. He soon recalled why he hadn't actually finished it. Even though it proved less interesting than he'd expected, he wasn't about to give up on it.

It remained quiet in that tavern until just before midday. That was when a couple of unfamiliar Orcs came in. Karl had briefly entertained the notion that one of them might have been the Orc he was looking for. They didn't come near Karl and Garish, but they were overheard speaking with the barkeep. It turned out that the two of them were with the Reytry Traders and were just dropping off some supplies in town, before picking up produce to take back. The mention of Fighters Guild appeared to draw brief glances of curiosity from the pair of strangers, but they kept their distance. Once they'd wet their whistles and concluded their business, those two Orcs were on their way.

Nobody else came into the tavern until well past noon. It had to be well after three by the time that Borgul came in. He still looked somewhat nervous as he approached Karl.

Borgul advised him that he'd been to talk with Uzgark. As far as his friend knew, he didn't know about any kin in Cyrodiil. However, he did tell him that his father had been called Baroth gro-Uzgark and that he'd thought that he'd passed some time back east when he was younger.

Borgul said that Uzgark had agreed to meet with him at The Superior Tavern that evening and that he should be there after about seven. He'd also advised that he'd be there to make the introductions.

Obviously, Karl accepted those terms. At least, it seemed like he was finally making some progress in his search. Borgul left the inn quickly, clearly uncomfortable with remaining in their company any longer than absolutely necessary.

Garish passed a comment. "Well, looks like yer gettin' somewhere now."

"Yeah. Looks like." Karl affected a mild grin.

"Ya don't mind if I tag along?"

Karl returned an ambivalent expression. "If ya want."

"Might as well. Gettin' curious ta see how it all turns out."

Karl grunted, expressing his accord. After a moment, he returned to his book.

They still had more than another couple of hours to wait. More than enough time to trouble the barkeep for some food and still have plenty of time to spare.

* * *

><p>Just before seven, Karl and Garish left the High Wold Inn and stepped onto the main street of Ripwold. The sun had only just dropped below the western mountains and darkness was starting to fall. The brighter stars were beginning to twinkle in the clear skies. Masser had risen in the east, but Secunda had yet to appear in the sky.<p>

There were just a few people out on the street. Some seemed to be headed home and others looked to be headed toward the taverns.

Karl looked along the street toward the far end of town. "Where's that road go?"

"Nowhere much. Once it clears the farms, there's just some rough trails up into the mountains, but there ain't no more towns or villages in that direction. Just some Orc strongholds up in the mountains."

"So, no trade in that direction then?"

Garish snorted ironically. "Nah."

They fell into step, headed for The Superior Tavern.

Garish added another thought. "If ya headed cross-country, you'd eventually hit the road to Camlorn, just near Alclaire, but no one's stupid enough to go that way."

Karl grunted his acceptance. It just reinforced his view that Ripwold would just be nothing more than a dead-end town, if it wasn't for the produce of the rich farmland.

Soon enough, they'd reached The Superior Tavern. Even from outside, it sounded noisy. It was obvious that there must have been a lot of people inside.

Passing through the front door, the noise that was evident from the outside assaulted the senses more directly. There had to be nearly thirty people inside the tavern. Since the place wasn't all that big, that made it seem very crowded inside. It was a stark contrast to the relative quiet of the High Wold Inn.

The crowd itself was rowdy enough, but more of the noise came directly from the music and singing over by the far corner of the tavern area. Aside from enthusiastic onlookers, most of the singing came from a young Breton girl. She was flanked by an older Breton man with a flute and another playing a lute. An Orcish man accompanied with a second lute.

Looking about, more than half of the crowd seemed to be made up of Orcs. The rest looked to be Breton or maybe with some mix of Imperial or Nord blood. Karl and Garish shuffled their way toward the bar. They'd yet to spot Borgul among the unfamiliar faces.

Only once they'd ordered a couple of ales from the barkeep, Borgul finally appeared by their side, making his presence known.

Karl looked to Borgul with some expectation. "So, is Uzgark in here?"

Borgul nodded. "That's him, over there." He indicated the Orc playing the lute at the far end of the tavern.

Karl looked over to the lute player. "He some kinda bard?"

"Not exactly. He's a farmer, but he plays the lute as well."

Karl squinted, looking toward Uzgark. He thought that he could recognise some vague resemblance to his bother Lum, and in turn that of his father.

Garish passed comment. "He's not too bad on the lute."

Karl grunted, still taking his measure of the Orc that might be a long lost brother.

Borgul spoke up again. "They've got a few more songs to go. After that, we can go talk to him."

They waited for a while longer as the musicians play their songs. Karl wanted to get a better look at Uzgark, but there wasn't much opportunity to get any closer. It would just have to wait until they were finished.

The crowd cheered and applauded in a raucous fashion between each song they played. When the Breton girl finally told them they were done, a noisy section of the crowd shouted and demanded more until they capitulated and agreed to perform one more song.

Once the performers had finally finished and the raucous onlookers started to settle just a bit, the three Orcs started to make their way through the crowded tavern toward the lute player. A cluster of three drunken male Orcs blocked their direct path.

Gesturing with his mug of ale, one of them blustered loudly in slurred tone, addressing the other two Orcs. "Ah, what's the Empire ev'r done fer us?"

"Well, there's the roads." The shorter of the group suggested.

The blustering Orc looked annoyed. "Yeah awright then, 'sides the roads, what's the Empire ev'r done for us?"

The third drunk weighed in. "Not the roads. Thas long time ago."

"You fellas wanna let us past?" There was something in Karl's tone that gave the drunks a moment's pause.

The larger of the three drunks eyeballed him briefly, swaying slightly on his feet.

The smaller one spoke up. "Looks like Borgul's with 'em."

The larger one looked to Borgul through bleary eyes. He seemed to also notice Garish, before looking back toward Karl. "Yeah, shore 'nuff." He stepped aside, looking rather unsteady on his legs.

Karl and Borgul slipped past the drunks. Garish kept a wary eye upon the three drunks, anticipating the possibility of trouble. Despite his reasonable concerns, nothing actually happened. That was just as well. Though the drunks might not have been so much of a challenge, the rest of the tavern might have quickly joined in.

"Uzgark, Uzgark." Borgul tried to gain his friend's attention over the din.

The Orc cradled his lute as he extracted himself from those about him to come over to his friend. He didn't seem nearly as nervous as Borgul. As he drew closer, Karl thought he recognised even more of a family resemblance. He did seem to look a lot like Lum. He even had the same sort of bald patch with his dark hair left long at the back.

Uzgark looked to Borgul with a warm toothy smile.

"Uzgark, this is the fella I was tellin' you about. Karl gro-Baroth."

He looked past his friend to the bald Orc behind him. He shifted his lute to his left arm and extended his right in greeting. "Uzgark. Pleasure to meetcha."

Karl responded in kind. "Yeah, likewise. This here's Garish. He's with me."

Garish and Uzgark exchanged similar greetings.

Uzgark turned back to Karl. "So, Borgul says you reckon we might be kin?"

"Yeah, sons of Baroth. The same Baroth, I mean."

Uzgark affected a crooked smile. "If it's true, it's news to me."

"Yeah well, same here. Thought I was the last one." Karl couldn't help studying the other Orc's face.

Uzgark pointed over toward the northern wall. "I reckon we oughta move over to that other side. Bit more room over there."

No one disagreed with that suggestion. The group of four shuffled through the crowd toward the comparatively less crowded area by that wall.

Uzgark backed up to the wall, turning to look to Karl again. "So, you fellas are Fighters Guild, and you just came here from Wayrest?"

"That's right." Karl affirmed. "Garish is from there. I'm actually from over Cyrodiil way. A place called Chorrol."

Uzgark shrugged. "Yeah, dunno exactly where that is. Never been further east than Wayrest before."

"Long way from here." Karl advised.

Uzgark gave Karl a good long look. "So, you reckon we might be kin?"

"Reckon it adds up. The old man disappeared when I was about ten, headed for Orsinium at the time. Reckon you look like you're about ten years younger. Can't have been too many Orcs goin' by Baroth gro-Uzgark right about that time."

Uzgark nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, don't sound like a dumb idea. Can't say I ever remember hearin' anythin' about it from mother or father, but that don't mean much. I was just a nipper when they died."

Karl tried to appear sympathetic. "How'd that happen?"

"Hhn, they went down defendin' Orsinium. Probably like true Orcs, I s'pose. Least that's what I s'pose they woulda said. Only reason I'm here, is cos the Legion were evacuatin' children and anyone else that would go."

"Yeah, heard stories like that before."

Garish nodded silently behind him.

Uzgark added some more. "Legion dumped us at an Orc village. I got took in by an old Orcish farmer there. After things settled down a bit, he brought me over here an' we settled into farmin' just outside of town. Been here ever since."

Karl took all that in. It did sound a bit like Garish's story, as well as things he'd heard from other Orcs that he'd known over the years. "Tell me, do ya remember Baroth at all?"

Uzgark gazed inwardly. "I was pretty young back then, but yeah. 'Course he was a big fella. Balding head with just a few strands of gray on top an' he had just one eye with a big scar on the left side."

Karl looked back with raised eyebrows. "Sounds just like my old man."

Uzgark seemed a bit surprised. "Yeah? Ya reckon?" He paused. "Then, I s'pose that must make us brothers, or at least, half-brothers." He shook his head in mild disbelief. "Never figured on havin' a brother."

Karl grinned slightly, exposing his tusklike canines. "Well, I can tell ya that you had another two brothers."

"Yeah?" Uzgark seemed even more stunned.

"A bit older than me. They're gone now, but I can tell ya that they sure woulda wanted to meet ya, if they was still around."

Uzgark shook his head. He obviously appeared slightly overwhelmed by all of what he was hearing. "This is a lot ta take in." He paused, looking about the crowded inn, then looking back to Karl. "Look, I wanna talk more about this, but I gotta be up real early in the mornin'. You stayin' in town for a bit?"

Karl hesitated. "Can't stay too long, but I reckon I can spare another day or two."

"Good, good." Uzgark was thinking. "You're still stayin' over at the High Wold, like Borgul said?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"Tell ya what, you come by the house tomorrow an' meet the wife, an' then we can talk some more. I'm busy with the farmin' in the mornin' but we oughta be free from about midday."

"House? Where's that?"

"Nah, don't worry about that. I'll come by the inn an' show you the way."

"Sounds good." Karl agreed in a friendly manner.

"Yeah." Uzgark shook his head again with a toothy smile. "Heh, a brother. I really gotta get back, but I'll see you tomorrow. Then, we can talk some more."

"Yeah, tomorrow then."

Karl watched as Uzgark shuffled past with his lute under his arm and headed off toward the exit from the tavern. Borgul followed him out.

Garish took a long sip of his ale to cover his grin. "Well, looks like ya found what ya been lookin' for."

"Yeah, looks like." Karl took a mouthful from his own mug.

Once they'd finished up their drinks, Karl and Garish left the noisy tavern behind and headed back for the High Wold Inn. Garish passed the comment that it looked like they might be staying in town for a little longer. He advised Karl that he intended to hang about in Ripwold until he was ready head back. Karl held no argument. He was still pleasantly distracted by the immediate outcome of his journey to that place. Up until just then, he hadn't been quite settled upon the expectation of actually learning that he wasn't the last son of Baroth. It now seemed to be fact and it was only just beginning to properly sink in. He found himself eagerly looking to forward the next day.

~O~


	20. Chapter 20

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 20

Middas the 23rd of Midyear 4E49

Karl gro-Baroth was rather slow to stir that morning. He had no pressing reason to be up particularly early that day. He didn't really need to be anywhere until nearly midday. That was just part of what deflected his motivation to rise.

In anticipation of meeting with his younger brother later that day, his dreams of the previous evening had taken him back into the past. After a fashion, anyway. As dreams often were, they were distorted mixed up versions of actual things from his memories.

In the one that stuck with him after waking, he'd recalled dreaming of a Chorrol where he lived there with his mother and father, as well as Kurz and Lum. Even Fairbeard was there with them, along with various others that didn't belong together in the same time and place.

Even once he'd fully woken, his mind remained occupied with those thoughts. Though his thinking had shifted to recollection of actual events instead of those oddly mixed up versions from his dreaming. He just lay there for while, sorting through the various things that he wanted to tell Uzgark.

Eventually, he dragged himself out of bed and attended to immediate matters. Since he had the time, he used some of it to shave the lengthening bristles from his face.

He gave some thought to how long he'd been away from Chorrol. Counting up the days, it would be going on four weeks by the end of that week. By then, he'd figured on being back in Wayrest and looking toward passage back to Cyrodiil. Without any unexpected diversions, he reckoned on being back there before the six weeks was up. Added to that, the word of his intent to take up the Guild Master position should have arrived ahead of him by a good week.

By the time that Karl had finally emerged from his room at the High Wold Inn, Garish gro-Yargol was already sitting down at a table in the tavern area and eating some food.

After negotiating with the Breton barkeep to secure the room for another night, Karl got something to eat and joined Garish over at the table.

Garish looked up and paused to offer a greeting. "Mornin'."

"Mornin'." Karl responded in kind.

That was about the full extent of the conversation that passed between them until the both of them had finished with their food.

As Karl finished the last of his stew, Garish sipped at his mug of tea. "So then, ya goin' to meet with Uzgark today?"

"That's the plan." Karl reached for his drink.

"Ain't no reason for me ta follow ya about with that. You just let me know when ya ready to head out again."

Karl nodded without firm commitment. "Yeah, I'll let ya know about that, soon as I decide. There's a good chance it might be tomorrow, 'less there's any good reason not to."

"Sounds good." Garish agreed.

"Reckon I'll know by tonight."

"Figured as much. Reckon I can find somethin' to do 'til then. Might go take a wander about town. Visit the stores in town. Maybe see if any of the locals might warm up ta me."

Karl returned a questioning glance.

Garish grinned ironically. "Yeah, ain't expectin' ta make lotsa friends."

They shared a bland chuckle.

Soon enough, Garish was handing over more coin to the Breton barkeep to keep his lodgings for another night, then leaving the inn to take a walk about Ripwold.

Of course, Karl decided to wait at the inn. He didn't want to be somewhere else when Uzgark came for him.

Since he had a few hours before he expected to see Uzgark, he returned to reading to pass the time. By mid-morning, he'd finally finished that book that he'd started on several days before. By the ending, it did actually reach a satisfactory conclusion. Still, he felt that most of the second half of it seemed like a chore to get through. He returned it to his pack and went onto the second book that he hadn't even looked at yet.

That book was a story called 'The Eternal Bystander'. It started off in an intriguing manner. He wasn't quite sure whether it was trying to be funny or serious. It seemed like a bit of both. It appeared to be some quirky piece of fiction about an immortal Dwemer pretending to be an Altmer and living among those that knew no different.

Karl tried to set aside the common notion that all the Dwemer had disappeared from existence thousands of years ago. No one really knew for certain exactly what had happened to them, only that they were all gone. Some things said it was directly because of the Daedra or the Divines. Some of those things pointed toward the Dwemer inventions that threatened to step on the toes of the gods. One theory posed that those inventions might been directly responsible for the mysterious disappearance of the Dwemer people.

The story he was reading didn't even touch on any of that. It just focussed on the journeys of that enigmatic traveller. Karl smirked as he read passages of the traveller's recollections that placed him at important moments in history. In each case, he was nobody of special importance. Just somebody who was there to bear witness as the events took place.

Despite thinking that it was fanciful nonsense, he found that he couldn't help but be entertained by way the story was being told. He figured that he was going to get through that book a lot faster than the previous one.

He made a mental note that he should visit a bookstore in Wayrest to get something else to read before getting on a ship back to Cyrodiil. Hopefully, he'd find something equally entertaining for the voyage home.

* * *

><p>True to his word, it had to be near to right on midday when Uzgark arrived at the High Wold Inn. The other Orc looked slightly dishevelled from his morning farm work, but greeted Karl enthusiastically.<p>

Just briefly, Uzgark again marvelled at the notion that they both came from the same father. He didn't seem to doubt it, but he was obviously still getting used to the idea. He avoided starting up any lengthy conversation just yet, reminding Karl of his wife and suggesting that she was eager to meet with him.

After Karl put his book away in his room, he left the inn with Uzgark. They headed back along the street, past the stabling facilities at the edge of town. The farmhouse was located outside of the main cluster of buildings that made up Ripwold. It was near those farmlands that Karl had passed on the way into town a couple of days before, but set well back from the road, in the shade of trees behind the crop fields.

From the outside, the timber farmhouse looked rather modest in appearance, but hardly run-down. With some measure of humble pride, Uzgark had taken a few moments to point out the fields that he worked, mentioning some of the crops he grew. He also noted that eight of the goats in that penned-off field belong to him. That was nearly a third of them.

After that brief tour of his farm property, they headed inside the farmhouse. A slender Orcish woman was tidying up as they came in. Almost immediately, she stopped what she was doing to come take a look at the stranger.

Though she was slender, her frame was tall and muscular. Her dark hair was tied back in a long braid. The points of her ears looked a little longer than the average Orc, but not unusually so. By Karl's guess, she looked to be maybe ten years Uzgark's junior.

Uzgark made the introductions. "This is Karl gro-Baroth. My wife, Sharma."

"Sharma gra-Shogrum." She took his hand in greeting, studying his face with her yellowish eyes. "Reckon I can see some family resemblance."

"You can?" Uzgark seem a little surprised.

"Yeah, sure."

Karl offered his own observation. "Reckon I can see a bit of Lum in Uzgark. He was one of the older brothers."

Sharma looked between Karl and her husband. "There's more brothers?"

"Pretty sure I mentioned that." Uzgark shrank a little under her glare.

Karl spoke up. "Baroth had two other sons with his first wife, Kurz and Lum. Were about thirty years older than me. Both gone now. Died fighting for Emperor Mede. Well, that was before he was Emperor." He paused. "S'pose they were really fighting on his side for the good of the people in Cyrodiil. Least, that's how I see it."

Sharma seemed slightly bewildered and more than a bit intrigued by that fresh information. She ushered the other two over to the table, urging them to sit. After bringing over ale and mugs, she prompted Karl to go over what he could tell them of those other brothers and of the Baroth gro-Uzgark that he knew as his father.

They sipped at their ale as Karl collected his thoughts. He started by describing his father, as he knew him from when he was just a boy. It seemed that Sharma had heard similar descriptions before and Uzgark again confirmed that it sounded just like the father he recalled from his own childhood. So far, they each seemed reasonably satisfied that they were talking about the same person.

Since Karl seemed to know a lot more of Baroth's earlier life than they did, he decided to start from the beginning. He'd started with what he knew of Baroth leaving High Rock with Grazar gra-Lumbakh when they were both fairly young. They'd travelled across half of Tamriel before eventually reaching the Imperial City of Cyrodiil.

Finding work in that place, they'd settled there, living among the mixed populace of that city. Before too long, they'd produced two sons, Kurz and Lum.

He told them that by the time that Kurz was about ten, Baroth had joined up with the Imperial Legion and been sent off to Black Marsh to serve the Empire. Both Uzgark and Sharma nodded in agreement, indicating that it was something that they already knew of.

Karl suggested that he didn't know all that much about Baroth's time with the Legion. Only that he passed nearly seven years away from his family and at some point, he'd stopped sending messages and wages back home.

From Karl's understanding, Baroth had gotten himself into some sort of trouble and abandoned his Legion service, making himself something of a fugitive. By the time that he'd returned to Cyrodiil, he'd learned that his wife and children had presumed him dead or missing and moved on, leaving the Imperial City behind. Apparently, he'd tried to find them, but failed.

He went on to tell them of how Baroth had stumbled about in the south of Cyrodiil for a short time. Sometimes, on the wrong side of the law. Eventually, he'd found himself in the east of Elsweyr at the city of Rimmen. That was where he'd met that Nord, Karl Fairbeard, and his fortunes started to return to something more favourable. The pair of them had become close friends, mostly working contracts as guards for the local traders.

After a short period, both Baroth and Fairbeard relocated to the city of Orcrest, in the middle of Elsweyr. They continued to do the same sort of work.

It was in Orcrest that Baroth met his second wife, Alba gra-Aglash. She had been among the Orcs that served the city watch of Orcrest. Of course, she was Karl's mother.

Though it was just before he was born, Karl knew that Baroth, Alba and Fairbeard had stood together to defend against the Daedric hordes that threatened their city during the Oblivion Crisis. He'd seen the ruins of the Oblivion Gate near Orcrest and heard the tales of bravery and tragedy. He explained how that was just a part of what bolstered the friendship between the three of them and how all that also led to why they'd named him after Fairbeard.

Uzgark interrupted, mentioning that there was supposed to be a broken Oblivion Gate near the ruins of Orsinium and that he'd seen another near Wayrest. Of course, both Uzgark and his wife had also heard tales of what happened back when those gates had opened, so they held a similar sort of understanding.

Karl went on to tell them just a little of his early years in Orcrest. They both seemed fascinated by what he described. Uzgark mentioned that they'd seen Khajiit before, but not so many of them. They weren't all that common in those parts. Sharma suggested that she found it difficult to imagine a city of Orcs and Khajiit living together like that.

Karl's story shifted tone as he outlined the series of events that led to his leaving Orcrest behind. It started with his father heading northward to visit Orsinium. At the time, he had no idea that he wouldn't be coming back. During the time that Baroth was away, a disease swept through Orcrest that only affected Orcs. That was how he lost his mother and ended up living in the care of Fairbeard.

He explained how after it became clear that Baroth wasn't coming back, and with the threat of troubled times ahead in Orcrest starting to emerge, Fairbeard had decided to take him north into Cyrodiil, in the hope of finding somewhere safer to live.

After leaving Orcrest, Karl lived with Fairbeard in the Imperial City of Cyrodiil for a brief time. There were two particular things that came about around the same time that caused them to leave that place.

Fairbeard had just learned of a couple of Orcs living in Chorrol, going by the name of gro-Baroth. Since Baroth had previously told him of losing contact with his first family, he held a firm suspicion of who those two Orcs might be.

That was about the time that Potentate Ocato had been assassinated and the Imperial City was falling to chaos. At the first available opportunity, Fairbeard had taken Karl and headed directly for Chorrol.

Karl briefly related the story of joining his older brothers in Chorrol. Back then, those two had no idea that Karl even existed. It was Fairbeard who helped them piece all the details together.

He went on to tell something of his early days in Chorrol. He continued to live with Fairbeard as Kurz and Lum resided at the Guildhall of the Fighters Guild. Eventually, Fairbeard also joined the Guild. Back then, Karl passed nearly every spare moment training with Lum, in the hope of joining them in the Guild as soon as he was old enough and good enough.

He explained that the uprising to depose Thules the Gibbering and reunite Cyrodiil under a common cause came along just a little too early. At the time, he wasn't yet a proper member of the Fighters Guild, just a provisional recruit on the cusp of gaining first rank. He'd wanted to fight alongside Fairbeard, his brothers, and everyone else that he knew, but was forced to stay behind at Chorrol.

Karl related that it was the same day that Titus Mede took the Imperial City, that he lost all of his remaining family. After that, the Fighters Guild effectively became his family, at least, what remained of it.

He'd been with the Fighters Guild so long, that only a few remained from the time of his brothers. He'd eventually risen to the position of second-in-charge at Chorrol and it looked like he was about to take over as the head of the whole thing.

Uzgark appeared stunned by that last part of the story. "Borgul said you're Fighters Guild, but nothin' about being the head of the whole thing."

Karl shrugged. "Ain't the whole thing. Just all the Guildhalls that answer directly to Imperial funds. Wayrest and a bunch of others operate under other influences. Still Fighters Guild, but sorta independent."

Uzgark nodded. "Still, sounds like what ya doin' is pretty important."

"Yeah, can't really argue with that, s'pose."

Sharma interrupted with a thought, looking to her husband. "Didn't ya tell me that your mother served in the Legion with Baroth?"

Uzgark tried to recall. "Yeah, think so. It was s'posed to be years before they came together in Orsinium. I do remember somethin' about it being somewhere in the far east where there was lotsa swamps."

Karl offered his opinion. "That does sound like Argonia. Back then, they useta call it Black Marsh. When it was still parta the Empire."

Uzgark fidgeted with the point of his ear. "Y'know, lotsa what ya said does sorta line up with the bits I know of. Reckon it does look like it's gotta be the same Baroth."

"What was ya mother's name?" Karl prompted.

"Lasha, Lasha gra-Yagor."

Karl shook his head. "Can't say I heard the name."

Sharma had been frowning. She poked her husband. "Didn't ya once say that ya thought she had a daughter, before ya came along?"

Uzgark looked back with some confusion. "Did I tell ya that?"

She poked him again, much harder the second time. "Yeah, ya did."

Uzgark shrugged. "Yeah well, I thought I remembered her sayin' somethin' like that when I was little. Somethin' about having a daughter, but she died 'fore I was born. She was tellin' someone else about it, but I don't reckon she wanted to be talkin' about it."

Sharma's brow furrowed more deeply. "Y'know what I reckon?" She paused, not really expecting a response. "I reckon that she mighta had a daughter back then an' it mighta been cos of Baroth. From back when they was in the Legion together."

Karl nodded thoughtfully. "Seems possible."

Uzgark blinked, shaking his head. "Lemme get alla this straight. So, Baroth started off with a first wife… Grazar, wasn't it?" Karl's quick nod confirmed. "He gave her Kurz and Lum, before heading off with the Legion for a while. Then, he musta been with my mother." He paused. "After that, he was with your mother in Orcrest. Then, he met with my mother again at Orsinium, just before I came along." He shook his head again.

Karl sighed. "Dunno for sure about what happened in Black Marsh, but the rest of it sounds like it must be right."

Uzgark looked to be struggling with it a bit. "Don't make a whole lotta sense ta me. I can't see wantin' anythin' different from Sharma and our little ones."

"You have children?" Karl prompted.

Sharma responded. "We got two. A girl an' a boy. Yurma is the first one. She's goin' on nine. Bator is a bit younger. He just turned six."

Karl grinned. "S'pose that makes me an uncle, sorta. That's somethin' new." He glanced about. "Where're they now?"

Uzgark answered first. "Over at the schoolhouse, at the far end of town. Old Imperial woman runs it. Teaches 'em readin' and writin' an' such. Gotta know how to add up, if ya don't want the traders cheatin' ya."

Sharma looked to Karl. "What about you? No wife or children?"

Karl hesitated slightly. "Ah, never worked out that way." His expression seemed to indicate something remained unspoken.

Sharma frowned. Her gaze served as a prompt.

Karl responded with a shrug. "Yeah well, when I was a bit younger, there was an Orc girl over in Kvatch. That place was a coupla days from Chorrol. She served in the Kvatch city watch." He shook his head. "Dunno why, but it didn't last with her an' she eventually left for parts unknown."

"That musta been a while back." Sharma noted.

Karl added some more. "Yeah well, there was another time like that. About ten years back. Actually, more like twelve." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "There was an Orcish woman serving in the Legion. Mazgar was her name. She originally came from Orsinium too. Lost her parents the same way you did." He paused again, glancing to Uzgark. "For a while, I thought we were gonna end up together, but that didn't work out either. She wasn't leavin' the Legion an' I wasn't leaving the Fighters Guild." He sighed. "In the end, we lost touch. Dunno what happened to her after that."

Sharma took a moment to get some more ale and fill each of the mugs. Karl felt reluctant to be drinking so much ale that early in the day, but said nothing of it. After all, all that talking had been making him thirsty.

Since it seemed that they'd all settled on the idea that Karl and Uzgark were both sons of the same Baroth, and they'd each gained some fresh insight into how he'd lived and died, the conversation gradually shifted toward other things.

Karl prompted Uzgark to tell him more about the life he'd lived in Ripwold. The younger son of Baroth briefly outlined his early days with Moghz, the Orcish farmer that took him in after the fall of Orsinium. They'd started out with very little when they first came to Ripwold, but by the time that Moghz died, Uzgark had inherited one of the four most productive farms in the area.

They also told him a little of Sharma's background. She'd originally come from Midpath Hill when she was very young. Her father had relocated to Ripwold after the death of her mother and took to farming the land just next to the fields that Uzgark worked. Her father only lived long enough to see the birth of little Yurma. Sharma also mentioned that her younger sister, Lurma, was married to the man that ran the main general store in town. She had two little boys of her own. Both were still very young.

After Sharma and Uzgark had married, and later combined their respective farmlands, they figured that their farm was probably number two in Ripwold, in terms of how much produce they sold. By their reckoning, so long as they didn't suffer too many bad seasons, they stood to do fairly well for themselves.

Having heard all about that extended family that he'd just discovered, Karl steered the conversation in another direction. "What were ya tryin' ta do down in Wayrest? I heard there was talk about callin' for a new Orsinium."

Uzgark shook his head slightly. "Not exactly. A bunch of us went over there to Wayrest. Was just tryin' ta talk about gettin' some sort of Orcish representation in the old Orsinium region. Couldn't even get to talk to anyone about it."

"Don't seem like there's lotsa places or whole lotta people in this region."

"Well, there's not, not really. It's really just Ripwold, Reytry, Midpath Hill, a bunch of smaller villages an' whatever Orcish strongholds they got up in the mountains." He paused on that. "Ain't like the ones up in the mountains count for much, though. Lotsa mountain-Orcs just see us as city-Orcs and the rulin' Bretons of Wayrest just don't see us at all." He sighed. "We just wanted ta talk about havin' some sorta voice in what happens in our region."

"Maybe, you just went about it the wrong way, or gave up too easy." Karl suggested.

Sharma interjected. "That's what I said." She glared at her husband.

Uzgark shrugged uncomfortably. "Dunno. Maybe, we just wasn't the right ones for the job. I told the others that protestin' in the streets was a dumb idea. I kept sayin' that if we couldn't get in ta talk at the palace, then we shoulda tried findin' someone that could."

"Maybe someone oughta just do that, then." Karl's tone indicated that he thought it was perfectly obvious.

"Maybe, someone like you." Sharma suggested.

Karl winced. "Ain't really my fight, since I ain't a local. B'sides, I gotta set to runnin' the Fighters Guild when I get back to Chorrol." He paused with a sigh. "Best thing I can do is mention that the Fighters Guild in Wayrest oughta pay more attention to this area. Maybe do somethin' about keepin' raiders under control an' the like."

An awkward silence threatened.

Karl posed another question. "Ain't there someone in charge of town?"

Sharma answered. "Not really. That's parta why they headed to Wayrest."

Karl sighed, trying to put together some thoughts. "I got some ideas, of sorts." He paused again. "I figure you should get some sorta traders association with a head. Better yet, get all the farmers and traders together to form some sorta council. Best if that included Orcs and Bretons. Maybe even bring them Reytry Traders in on it somehow. Reckon that Wayrest might respond to that kinda thing. If you could get that started an' I put in a word with Wickfield, the head of the Wayrest Fighters Guild, then you might just make some headway at startin' a proper conversation with the rule of Wayrest."

Uzgark looked to be chewing on the ideas. "Reckon you might be right."

Sharma jabbed her husband. "Course he's right. He's talkin' proper sense."

Karl added another thought, mentioning Garish gro-Yargol. He figured that he might have something to say on their behalf when the time came. After all, he was an Orc from that region, as well as Fighters Guild. That had to count for something.

Sharma seemed enthusiastic. She suggested that it shouldn't be too hard to get Gharza and Lurma's husband interested in the idea of a council. She wasn't so sure about the stables or the smith, but she figured that they might come around if the taverns got involved.

Uzgark also felt that it might be difficult to get all the other farmers to agree, but thought that the more that joined in, the more likely that others would feel the need to have their own say.

It was already growing late in the afternoon as the more serious conversations were soon cut short by the arrival of young Yurma and Bator. Karl thought that he recognised them from in the street the previous morning.

Their son was immediately curious of the strange Orc in their home. Their daughter looked far more apprehensive.

Even after Karl had been introduced to them as their father's long lost older brother, Yurma remained fairly standoffish and even slightly churlish.

By contrast, Bator only became more excited, firing off a lengthy series of persistent questions. He wanted to know where Karl was from and why he'd never seen him or heard of him before. He wanted to know why he wasn't a farmer and why his name sounded like that and why he didn't have any hair at all on his head.

Yurma seemed to listen to the exchange, but didn't participate directly, continuing to keep her distance. It seemed to take a quite a while before young Bator settled down a bit.

Once the opportunity arose, Uzgark posed the question he'd clearly been holding onto for a while. "So, how long ya plannin' on stayin' in Ripwold?"

Karl sighed, adopting a sombre expression. "Can't really stay. Really need to be gettin' on my way real soon. It's a long way back an' I got responsibilities that can't wait."

Sharma responded. "That don't mean ya can't stay for dinner. Ain't plannin' on leavin' tonight, are ya?"

Karl nodded with a grin. "Yeah, reckon I can stay for that."

Both Sharma and Uzgark seemed pleased with his response. Sharma soon recruited the children to help her with preparing food for the evening meal, leaving some further opportunity for her husband to speak with his brother.

The two Orcs talked about a few things, a lot of it directly relating to Karl's earlier suggestions over what they might do with organising a council of local businesses. Uzgark tried to probe his brother for further useful suggestions.

In a lull in the conversation, Uzgark had plainly suggested that if Karl ever got tired of the Fighters Guild, he should think about coming to live in Ripwold. Karl politely agreed that it was worth thinking about when that time came, but not just yet.

Before too long, they were all sitting down to dinner with the sunlight just starting to fade ahead of the coming evening. Sitting down to a meal in their farmhouse turned out to be somewhat more chaotic than Karl might've expected.

It seemed that Yurma required some prodding to get her to the table. Her brother required less encouragement, but further effort was needed to keep young Bator from acting up and repeatedly badgering his new uncle, instead of eating his food.

Karl did his level best to remain polite and tolerant of the inquisitive youngster. After all, he was just a child. That was different from putting up with fully-grown Guild Fighters that just behaved like children.

Uzgark seemed slightly entertained by his son's questions. Sharma was a bit less tolerant of her children's behaviour. She repeatedly berated her son for not eating his food or allowing Karl to get to eat his own. She also chastised her daughter for just not eating.

By the time that the evening meal was finally done, Sharma was actively chasing the children from the table. She made them help with tidying up, then made them wash. All the time, reminding them that they wouldn't be staying up late and that bedtime was approaching ever closer.

Karl observed all the activity with some measure of ironic amusement. He'd been quietly thinking that his own life had been a whole lot less troublesome without all that to deal with. It served to remind him that the reality of raising children was a whole lot more work than it seemed from the outside.

After things had settled a little, conversation resumed between Karl and Uzgark. The tone of discussion bounced about all over the place across a broad range of topics. That continued as Sharma returned to join in.

Sharma had a few things to add that tended to drag the conversation back toward Karl's suggestions over the future of their region. She seemed rather enthusiastic about the whole thing. Perhaps a little more so than she'd been about Uzgark's first failed attempt at it with his friends.

Eventually, it got to the time when Karl suggested it was getting late and that he should probably be on his way fairly soon. From looking at both Uzgark and Sharma, he'd figured that it must've been fairly late. It turned out that it hadn't even gone nine yet, but the other two had been up since before the dawn.

Responding to the direct question of his immediate plans, Karl conceded that he would most probably be leaving Ripwold the next day. He'd already explained the importance of returning to his responsibilities in Cyrodiil as soon as possible. He also conceded that he didn't know when he might be coming back that way again, but he was real glad that he'd managed to find them while he still had the time.

Uzgark remained seemingly amiable and accepting. He tried to convey his general understanding of Karl's position and responsibilities without trying to make him any guilt for having to leave so soon.

Sharma suggested that there was no reason that they couldn't write letters or something like that. She noted that the local traders should be able to deliver packages and messages from Wayrest. She clarified where such things should be sent to reach Karl and made sure that he had the same.

Before long, they were saying their farewells. None of them knew whether they'd ever be meeting like that again. That aspect of their parting felt a little sad, but they all seemed glad to have had the chance to meet and share their stories.

* * *

><p>Leaving the farmhouse behind, Karl made his way back toward the main part of Ripwold. The noise from a horse at the stables reminded him of something that he'd need to attend the following morning, if they were going to head off that day. That also reminded him that they'd need to visit Gharza's store as well. They needed to take Westcroft back to Wayrest when they departed.<p>

Soon enough, Karl was back at the High Wold Inn. As he'd come to expect, the tavern area wasn't particularly crowded or noisy. There were a couple of Orcs at one table and a bunch of Bretons sitting around another. The Breton barkeep was wearily leaning over the main service counter, looking like he was just about to call it a night as soon as he was able.

Garish was sitting just nearby at that usual table, all by himself. He was idly nursing a mug of ale. It took him a moment to realise that Karl had just come in.

At Garish's invitation, Karl related just a few brief details of his meeting with Uzgark and his family. He got to addressing the most pressing matter fairly quickly, advising him that they would be heading out the next morning as soon as they were able.

Garish accepted that favourably enough, finishing off his ale before heading for the bathroom and then off to his room for some shut-eye.

Before too long, Karl was doing the same. Though his mind was still abuzz with thoughts of how he'd passed the afternoon and evening, only a short time passed before he'd peacefully drifted off to sleep.

~O~


	21. Chapter 21

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 21

Tirdas the 6th of Sun's Height 4E49

The sun was setting in the west as the towers of Castle Skingrad caught the glow of the last rays of daylight. Karl gro-Baroth continued marching onward. He'd made fairly good time along the road, but it would still be dark by the time he arrived at Skingrad's western gates.

Thirteen days had passed since Karl had met with his estranged brother and his family in the township of Ripwold in High Rock. That was already starting to seem like a long time ago, but that was probably just because most of that time had been relatively tedious and uneventful. That was really because the greatest portion of that time was passed sitting about on a ship during the long voyage back from Iliac Bay.

In the company of Garish gro-Yargol, he'd departed Ripwold the morning after meeting with Uzgark and his family. That journey back to Wayrest had been more uneventful than the outbound trek. At the least, they'd not encountered any raiders. Added to that, travelling on horseback was a bit easier. The only trouble that they had to deal with had been some wolves that stalked them along the road between Midpath Hill and Reytry. Even though Westcroft's body had been wrapped in a treated shroud, the wolves could still smell what was tied to that third horse. Nevertheless, the wolves never actually got close enough to force the issue.

Only to avoid travelling at night along those roads of the high country, they'd stayed the evening at Reytry, then headed straight back for Wayrest the next morning. That journey proved pleasantly free of incident all the way. The greatest challenge had been boredom.

As reasonably anticipated, Guildhead Wickfield had not been at all pleased over losing Westcroft. Still, any difficulties that Garish might have faced had been somewhat eased by a couple of things. Karl's presence was probably one thing. The other being that they'd successfully eliminated a band of raiders in the outer regions.

Getting past the unsavoury matter of losing a member of the Guildhall, Wickfield was pleased to hear that Karl had succeeded in finding his half brother. At the least, his search had proved fruitful in the end.

That led onto a further discussion relating the concerns of some of the people at Ripwold. Karl explained what was likely to happen in the old Orsinium region, provided that various things went according to tentative plans.

Though Wickfield remained slightly sceptical that those outlying settlements would actually manage to organise themselves in that manner, she agreed that it did seem like a sound plan. She even agreed to advocate on their behalf, when the time came. Of course, that remained dependent upon those people actually managing to present that level of organisation. In either event, she'd indicated that she'd try to keep him informed of any developments via future correspondence.

Wickfield had reminded him that she still intended to follow his advice with regard to improving relations between the unaffiliated Guildhalls of her region. She also planned to let him know how that worked out.

All of that sat well enough with Karl. After all, it was the best that he could reasonably hope for. Still, it was a fair assumption that each of those things would take some time.

Karl remained in Wayrest for barely two days. Since he'd learned of a suitable trade vessel heading southbound on the Loredas, he'd secured passage right away. Added to that, since that ship was stopping at Sentinel, it was just what he needed.

He'd arrived in Sentinel on the Sundas. Wasting no time, he'd headed directly for the office of the Imperial Consulate. Once he'd managed to meet with the Consul, he'd learned that the negotiation process to gain authorisation for a proper Fighters Guild presence in that city was still in progress.

According to Cipius, everything was still going according to expectation. He'd assured Karl that an acceptable outcome was only a matter of time. He'd estimated that an official agreement was likely to come about in the coming weeks. Almost certainly by the time that the construction of the new Legion garrison was completed. He'd also expected that the old Legion house would be available to serve as a Guildhall for the Fighters Guild. The Consul intended to keep him properly informed by correspondence.

Since there was no good reason for him to remain in Sentinel, Karl headed straight back to the docks to secure passage on that vessel to continue onward to Cyrodiil. That didn't present any problem for him. That same cabin was still available.

Given that the ship wasn't departing until the next day, he'd had time to head over to Sentinel's Foreign Quarter to visit the Legion house. Over there, he had another brief conversation with Captain Broder.

Fortunately, he was also able to speak with Ceno and the other Guild Fighters, since they weren't out on any contract at the time. He'd passed on detail of what knew at that stage, advising that everything would continue to be business as usual until word came of anything different.

When Karl was there at the Legion house, Taimar took his ear to go on about an Orc called Borgath who fought in Sentinel's arena. She'd been trying to persuade him of the idea of leaving the arena to join up with the Fighters Guild.

Of course, Karl had no particular problem with that, provided that Borgath met the requirements and went through the usual process. Still, he reminded Taimar it was still too early to do anything about it. He suggested bringing it to Ceno, when they actually had a proper Guildhall and they were in a position to look to taking on recruits.

By the next morning, Karl was sitting about on that trade vessel and heading southward again, sailing down along Iliac Bay and toward home. He had plenty of time to look to reading those books that he'd picked up Wayrest before heading off.

That ship headed back along a different route from the one he'd taken on the way up to Sentinel and Wayrest. After leaving Iliac Bay, the vessel rounded the cape of eastern Hammerfell, then headed out into deeper waters, bound for the island of Stros M'Kai.

The trade vessel remained at the port city of Stros M'Kai for just the day. It was just enough time for Karl to stretch his legs and take a quick look about the place.

He'd heard about Stros M'Kai before, but he'd never actually been there himself. He was just a bit surprised at how busy the place seemed. In some respects, it immediately struck him as somewhat similar to Sentinel. It did feature a lot of old Yokudan styled architecture. That was especially obvious with the big palace structures up on the hill. Some other parts of the city looked nothing like that sort of thing. It seemed a broad mix of the old and the new.

Still, he didn't have all that much time to take a really good look about. He needed to be back aboard the vessel before the unloading and loading of cargo was completed.

Soon enough, the trade vessel was back on its way and headed directly for the Gold Coast of Cyrodiil, bound for Anvil. Karl would have preferred the chance to again speak with Razaal in Rihad, but that would just have to wait. There'd be opportunity for correspondence once things were settled.

It was only when Karl had finally arrived at Anvil that he first he heard word of trouble in the southern and eastern parts of Cyrodiil.

Speaking with Guildhead Llaram, he'd learned that trade ships from the east had brought rumours of problems in the south of Cyrodiil along the border regions with Elsweyr. There'd been trouble affecting Leyawiin, Water's Edge and Bravil over the past few weeks.

Though the details remained scant, Llaram indicated that she'd heard talk of raids upon the outlying settlements of those regions. The rumours suggested that Renrijra Krin bandits from Elsweyr were responsible. The word was that both the Fighters Guild and the Imperial Legion were involved in dealing with the threat, but she'd yet to hear anything of substance through the regular official channels.

For a variety of reasons, that information alarmed Karl in a suitable manner. Isolated bandit attacks were not so unheard of, but it wasn't so often that the Renrijra Krin were implicated in such things. At least, not in Cyrodiil. Not recently, anyway. Add to that, it seemed like it had to be more than just the typical roadside bandit trouble if both the Fighters Guild and Legion were on alert. He was also concerned and a bit annoyed that Montrose hadn't been keeping the other Guildheads properly informed of what was going on.

Karl decided to waste no time in getting back to making his way for Chorrol. The next morning, he was up very early and marching along The Gold Road toward Kvatch at a determined pace. He hadn't bothered with trying to coordinate with trade wagons or the like. He figured he'd get to Kvatch quick enough on his own without wasting time or effort on that.

In Kvatch, Karl spoke with Guildhead Farrel and Merandil. Aside from hearing vague rumours of increased bandit attacks in those southern counties, they knew nothing more of it.

Of course, just like Guildhead Llaram, his comrades in Kvatch were pleased to hear of Karl's decision to assume the role of Guild Master. They'd also received news of his tenuous successes in Sentinel and Wayrest with favour.

Farrel had firmly suggested that what he'd achieved in the west was clear indication that he was most certainly the right person to take over as Guild Master at Chorrol.

After an early night at Kvatch's Guildhall, Karl was up before the dawn and again marching along The Gold Road at a sturdy pace. In the early part of the day, a close call with a mountain lion threatened to delay his progress. However, the cat took flight in response to Karl's swinging battleaxe and his superior roar. Any roadside bandit dumb enough to take him on that day would've been unlikely to live to tell the tale.

He'd encountered two Legion riders patrolling The Gold Road during the first half of the day. In each case, brief exchange informed him that they didn't know much about what was going on in Bravil or Leyawiin. Since they were based in the west, they weren't well informed of what was happening in the east. They'd heard of increased bandit troubles in the southern Niben region and even some mention of the Renrijra Krin, but nothing beyond that.

Karl didn't even bother wasting his time with the other Legion riders he'd encountered a little later in the day. He'd only exchanged courteous greetings and kept moving toward his immediate destination.

He knew he'd need to rest the night at Skingrad, but he was hoping that he would learn something more of what was going on in the southern counties while he was there.

* * *

><p>Just as he'd expected, it was dark by the time that Karl approached the main gates on the western side of Skingrad. The current phases of the moons meant that there wasn't so much light once had sun had set. Still, it was just enough to see the road ahead.<p>

Once he'd passed by the farmlands and vineyards just west of the city, the lantern outside the stabling facilities served as a beacon as he headed along the final stretch.

After speaking briefly with the duty guard by the gates, he headed inside the city walls and started making his way for the Fighters Guild.

Though the open stalls of The Low Street were all abandoned by that time, there were still a few people out on the streets, headed to and from either side of town. The warm summer evening seemed to have something to do with that.

Even with most of the businesses of Hightown closed up for the day, there were still a number of people moving along The High Street. Some of them looked to be coming and going from the West Weald Inn. Others just seemed to be out on the streets for no obvious reason.

Arriving at the Fighters Guild, Karl headed straight inside. The Guildhall sounded unusually quiet. It seemed like there was no one about at all.

Before Karl had the opportunity to call out, he heard the noise from a creaking chair coming from the room off to the left of the main entryway. The aged Guild Porter slowly shuffled out to see him.

Fadus Calidius stared at him through squinted eyes. "Karl gro-Baroth."

"Fadus." Karl returned.

"You looking to stay the night?"

"Yeah, just got in from Kvatch."

Fadus grunted. "You know where everything is."

Karl nodded curtly. "Yeah, I do. Wanna see the Guildhead, if she's available."

"A bit late, isn't it?" The old Imperial man commented gruffly.

Karl figured it was probably going on eight. "Yeah well, got here as quick as I could."

Fadus eyeballed him in a condescending manner. "She's in. Can't say if she's available. Might be, for you."

Karl glanced toward the stairs. "Reckon I might go find out."

"Don't let me stop you." Fadus glared for a moment, before turning away and returning to the room he'd just emerged from.

Karl ignored any other passing concerns and headed on up the staircase for the upper level of the Guildhall. By that time of the evening, he'd thought that Adrienne Canne might be in her quarters up on that level. Instead, he learned that she was still in her office, going over some documents with a weary expression on her face.

Canne looked up with a curious glance as she noticed someone approaching the open door to her office. "Karl, you're back. Come on in. Take a seat." She waved him in.

The big Orc entered the office. He took a chair and settled into it with a sigh. His facial expression seemed to convey a feeling of relief to be off his feet.

Canne affected a mild smile. "It's good to see you. How have you been?"

"Good enough. Yourself?"

"Yes, good. Good and busy." She glanced down at the mess of documents.

"Looks like." Karl agreed, without pressing any further, just yet.

Canne looked back with a slightly odd expression. "Have you only just returned from the west?" She was just thinking that more than a month had passed since she'd last spoken with him.

"Yeah, just now. Just got in from Kvatch. Anvil before that."

She returned an expectant gaze. "Oh. So then, how did all that go?"

Karl released a heavy sigh, then went on to briefly outline the highlights of his visits to Sentinel and Wayrest. He only went over the basics of what he expected to come out of his negotiations and discussions in those two places. The bottom line was that Sentinel should have a proper Guildhall sometime soon and that closer relations with some of the Guildhalls of High Rock could be likely, though that second thing was likely to take a bit longer. He didn't bother to get into discussing his other activities that led to him finding his estranged brother. He didn't figure that she needed to hear any of that.

Before Karl managed to shift the topic toward what he most wanted to know, Canne prompted him to speak of the one obvious thing that he hadn't addressed. "What about the Guild Master position?"

He affected an awkward grin, scratching an itch on one of his pointed ears. "Yeah well, decided to listen to what everyone kept tellin' me."

Canne's raised eyebrows prompted him to elaborate.

"Yeah, sent off messages a coupla weeks back. Informed The Elder Council and Chorrol that I was steppin' up an' takin' the job. That word shoulda reached 'em by now."

Canne nodded her approval. "Good, good to hear. In my view, what you've achieved over the past few weeks just goes to demonstrate that you're the right person for it."

Karl accepted her opinion without further comment, instead steering the discussion in another direction. "Didn't see no one about downstairs, but Fadus. There stuff goin' on that I need to know about?"

Canne met his gaze. "I take it you've heard something?"

"Nothin' proper. Just some rumours of trouble over in the southern counties."

"Yes, there's that and more." She paused with a sigh. "The trouble over in County Leyawiin started up a few weeks ago, while you were away in the west."

Karl's silent expression indicated that she had his full attention.

Canne continued. "Well, it started with what seemed like coordinated attacks at three locations by raiding parties. Border Watch, Water's Edge and farms just outside of Leyawiin, were each attacked by raiders at about the same time, on the very same day."

Karl's brow furrowed. "Heard rumour that it mighta been Renrijra Krin."

Canne nodded with some reservation. "Well, that's what they're saying. According to reports, the attackers were mostly Khajiit. Didn't say for certain that it was Renrijra Krin." She paused on that thought. "The reports seemed to indicate a firm suspicion of that, but apparently it remains unconfirmed. I took it to mean that the raiders hadn't been making any loud declarations."

Karl grunted. "Ain't like the Renrijra Krin not to crow about it."

"Agreed. I suppose it's possible that there's been some sort of reorganisation of those rebel groups in Elsweyr or maybe some sort of breakaway faction. Who can say?"

"You heard anythin' from Quaspas about this?"

Canne rolled her eyes slightly. "I heard that he was over in Chorrol when it all started. Supposedly, looking for you." She paused to gauge his reaction.

Karl appeared outwardly unmoved. Though he was feeling suitably annoyed.

Canne resumed. "Apparently, he went straight back down to Leyawiin as soon as he heard of it. From what I've heard, there've been several more attacks since he got back down there. There were more attacks on farms in County Leyawiin. There was even a raid on Blankenmarch and that's over the other side of the Niben. It's not just Leyawiin either. There were similar attacks about Faregyl and Ione and a farm just near Bravil."

Karl rubbed his bristled chin, mulling over those details with some concern on his face. "Has Chorrol been keepin' you informed?"

"Your second briefed me with the basics by messenger. He advised keeping an eye toward the Elsweyr border. Especially since the Renrijra Krin were suspected. I've heard some more from Legion sources since then."

Karl nodded with a grimace. "Ain't usual for the Renrijra Krin to be active about the Riverhold area, but ya never know."

"That's what I thought. I have Elynwen and Ras'Dar scouting the south of The West Weald. Nothing has caused any alarm along the road to Riverhold, but I have them looking into the other areas about The West Weald Track and over toward Faregyl way."

"Just the two of them?" Karl prompted.

Canne tilted her head. "Well, right at this moment, yes. I have Forester and the others dealing with another problem."

"What's that?"

The Breton Guildhead sighed. "We've had some more trouble with goblins."

Karl frowned. "How much more?"

"Well, my people dealt with a group of goblins at a cave north of here just a few weeks ago. That was not long after you were last here."

"Yeah, remember you sayin'."

"Yes well, my people sorted that out, well enough. There were just over a dozen in that breakaway tribe. Then, nearly two of weeks ago, another group of goblins came out of the forest and moved into Greenmead Cave."

Of course, Karl knew exactly where that was. It was along The Gold Road, about half way between Skingrad and the Imperial City. "I expect that's been causin' problems for travel along that stretch of road."

"Yes, it has. It's right by the roadside. It's caused trouble for trade wagons passing that way and the Legion actually lost a rider." She paused. "I've sent Forester with three Guild Fighters and four Legionnaires have gone with them. They only left this morning."

The furrows in Karl's brow deepened again. "How many gobs are there?"

"We don't really know. From what I've heard, at least a dozen. Possibly more. There hadn't been opportunity to properly scout the area beforehand." She waved a hand absently. "I understand that those caves are fairly large, so there could be quite a few goblins in there. Added to that, more could come from The Great Forest."

Karl nodded grimly, thinking back to part of the conversation that he'd had with her several weeks earlier. It was the part about dealing with the increased goblin population in The Great Forest that came to mind. "Yeah, gonna hafta do somethin' about that."

"I can't argue with that. It's been at least about twenty years since there's been any serious effort on that front."

"Yeah, I remember." Karl recalled how the Fighters Guild had worked with Mede's Legion troops back then to make a serious dent in the goblin population of the forest.

Canne met his gaze. "Well, as I said before, you can count on Skingrad, when the time comes."

Karl nodded his assent. "Yeah, I wanna get Bruma in on that, as well. Reckon it'll be a good idea if we can get some Legion too." He sighed. "Reckon that's gonna hafta wait 'til all that trouble in the southern counties gets sorted."

Canne wrinkled her nose. "Yes, I suppose so. In the meantime, we'll deal with any smaller groups of goblins as the need arises."

Karl grunted his assent. "Yeah, reckon we will. Meanwhile, I'm eager ta get back to Chorrol and take control of things."

"Of course." Canne agreed.

Having discussed all the relevant matters at hand, they soon exchanged friendly farewells and Karl left her in her office.

* * *

><p>Leaving the upper level of the Guildhall behind, Karl headed off downstairs for the bathroom to tend to immediate matters. He was feeling sweaty, hungry and tired from the long day's march from Kvatch. Added to all that, a growing sense of concern was beginning to weigh upon him. By his reckoning, the quicker he got back to Chorrol, the better.<p>

After he'd relieved himself of other burdens, he took the time to properly wash and clean up while he was in the bathroom, dealing with those first problems first. He was feeling a little better after all that.

Once he was all cleaned up, Karl headed straight for the kitchen area on the ground level of the Guildhall to get some food in his belly. He didn't care too much about what he was eating. It was just a matter of dealing with the immediate need.

As he absently stuffed his face, his mind drifted toward what he expected to learn once he made it back to Chorrol. He wondered whether Montrose had matters in hand or whether he'd made a mess of things. Even though he trusted Monika to have his second's back, he hadn't been counting on the kind of things that were going on in the southern parts of Cyrodiil.

Etrius Quaspas was another concern of sorts. It wasn't too hard to guess why Quaspas had been in Chorrol instead of tending to his own patch. Nevertheless, Karl was properly annoyed that he'd chosen that particular time to do it. After all, he hadn't come near Chorrol during those first three months since the old boss got himself killed.

Not that anyone could be expected to know everything about everything, by Karl's reckoning, Quaspas should have had some sort of idea of bandit gangs moving into County Leyawiin before that kind of trouble came about. It wasn't like the Leyawiin Guildhall was short of Guild Fighters and he figured that they ought to be keeping their ears to the ground to stay ahead of that sort of thing.

Either way, he hoped that they were dealing with it effectively after the fact. That's what the Fighters Guild was supposed to do. Working with the Legion, he had to figure that they'd shut down the raiders fairly quickly.

Still, he wondered whether the Leyawiin Guildhead was going to end up giving him some sort of trouble over the Guild Master position. As far as Karl was concerned, he expected that he would have the support of those that mattered. Even so, he still figured that just one dissenting voice could make things difficult. He was hoping that Quaspas wasn't going to try taking things down that road.

After cleaning up after himself in the kitchen area, Karl trudged up to the common sleep area on the second level. With everyone else out, he had his pick of the bunks. He selected one close to a window, figuring that would help keep him from sleeping late. He planned to be up real early and on his way back to Chorrol as soon as possible.

He didn't have to worry that his troubled thoughts would keep him awake. He'd fallen asleep almost as soon as he'd settled onto the bunk.

~O~


	22. Chapter 22

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 22

Middas the 7th of Sun's Height 4E49

The long day was drawing to a close as Karl gro-Baroth finally trudged toward the main gates of Chorrol. By then, the summer sun was setting in the distant west and the daylight was beginning to fade.

Five weeks had passed since he'd set off from the city that he called home. In that time, he'd travelled halfway across Tamriel and visited than half a dozen other cities. He'd more or less managed to achieve everything that he'd set out to do, or at least set those things in motion.

He remained confident of a favourable outcome in Sentinel. That was just a matter of waiting the time it would take for the Imperial Consul to complete his negotiations. In all likelihood, there would soon be a guildhall for the Fighters Guild in Sentinel. Though not necessarily right away, he was hoping that circumstance would eventually lead to establishing a renewed Guild presence in other neglected parts of Hammerfell.

Karl was also feeling positive over his efforts to reach out to the independent guildhall of Wayrest. He wasn't expecting any immediate result from that. However, he was feeling hopeful that something would come from it. If Guildhead Wickfield were successful in provoking friendly relations between the independent guildhalls of High Rock, then there would be better chance of each of them reconnecting with Chorrol. Of course, none of that was going to happen right away, but any sort of general movement in the proper direction would be a good thing. At least, by his reckoning.

On top of those official tasks that he'd set for himself, Karl had also managed to find the brother that he never knew that he had. He found that he gained an unexpectedly great sense of personal satisfaction from that. He was glad that he had the opportunity to meet Uzgark and his family and observe the life that they'd built for themselves. He also hoped that the advice that he left them with would also prove fruitful. Of course, it wouldn't necessarily lead to a new Orsinium, but it could well give those towns and settlements of the old Orsinium region some sort of voice in Wayrest. At least, that would be something.

Looking ahead, the painted image of the great oak upon the main city gates of Chorrol served as a welcoming beacon, marking the end of a long journey. The setting sun in the west marked the ending of the day, but Karl knew that his work for that day was probably still far from over.

* * *

><p>Just like the past few, it had been another really long day for Karl. He'd been up since before the dawn. It was only just barely light as he left the Skingrad guildhall behind, headed for the main city gates. That morning, he'd watched the sun slowly breach the distant Valus Mountains as he marched eastward along The Gold Road.<p>

Before too long, he'd made it to The Hackdirt Road, the back way that skirted along the western edge of The Great Forest headed toward Chorrol. The settlement of Brindle Home and township of Hackdirt were along that road, but he wasn't planning on spending any amount time at either location. He was fully intent upon making Chorrol by nightfall.

That first stretch along the main road had proved fairly uneventful. The sounds of morning birds and occasional buzzing or chirping insects punctuated the general quiet of the warm summer morning.

With few clouds in the skies, the day soon grew much warmer as the sun rose higher above. He'd quickly worked up a sweat marching along the open road in his old iron armour.

Though he'd remained fully alert and ready for trouble, nothing of special note presented any threat to his progress. The wildlife that he spotted from the road had only been the non-threatening kind.

After turning onto The Hackdirt Road, he'd been startled by the screech of a hawk circling overhead, but that was nothing to worry about. Just before mid-morning, he'd noticed a small herd of deer to the west of the road. They were just peacefully grazing on the grassland. A little later, he'd been alerted by the sounds of a ruckus somewhere to the east. It only turned out to be a small group of wild boar trotting through the underbrush toward the south. Nothing seemed to be chasing them. He assumed they were just headed for a nearby watering hole or something like that.

It was just before reaching the horse breeding settlement of Brindle Home, when Karl noticed a trade wagon slowly coming along the road behind him, as he'd stopped for a quick piss-break. It was still a bit short of midday at the time.

It would have been about an hour or so later, when that wagon finally caught up with him. The township of Hackdirt was still a few hours away.

The two Colovian men on the wagon were probably apprehensive over encountering a large Orcish warrior along the road with a battleaxe across his back. However, the wagon's guard quickly recognised him as the Orc from Chorrol's Fighter Guild.

Karl recalled that he'd seen him before in Chorrol, but didn't know him by name. In any event, the guard prompted the driver to allow Karl to ride along. After all, they were all headed for Chorrol and having two fighting men on the wagon was always better than one.

Of course, Karl held no particular objection to riding along with them in the back of the wagon. It was only a bit faster than the pace he'd been keeping up, but a whole lot easier.

Karl learned that the guard's name was Moris. The Colovian had tried to strike up a conversation, expressing his admiration for the Fighters Guild. Once he'd picked up that Karl didn't seem to be in the mood for talking, he soon fell silent, returning his attention to the road.

Before too long, the wagon was stopping at the township of Hackdirt. After unloading a couple of crates, they were soon on their way again, headed for Chorrol.

The road had been fairly quiet that day. They'd passed a Legion rider out on patrol along the road, but that proved to be the only highlight of the journey through that part of the forest. Despite hearing some strange noises coming from the forest, nothing actually emerged to cause any trouble for them along the way. Karl had been half expecting to encounter goblins, but he'd had no reason to even draw his battleaxe.

In due course, the journey brought them to The Black Road near the Odiil Farms settlement and they turned northward toward Chorrol. Before too long, the wagon rolled past the Weynon Priory settlement, eventually arriving at the South Chorrol district, just outside the main walls of the city.

Outside the regional office of the Imperial Trading Company, Karl parted company with his travelling companions and headed directly for the main city gates of Chorrol.

* * *

><p>Even with the arrival of the evening, there were still several people out on the streets of Chorrol. Some looked to be heading home. Others looked to be headed for the various taverns and inns of the city. The lights were already glowing in many of the windows in view and the lamplighters were still tending to the street lamps along the main streets.<p>

After passing by the duty guards near the southern gates, Karl made his way northward up the main street. He circled around the statue of the Saint of Sancre Tor, just near the Oak and Crosier Inn, then passed by the closed stores on his way up to the plaza of Great Oak Place. All the stalls of the open street vendors were abandoned by that time, but a sporadic stream of citizens headed for the homes of Castle Row along the northern wall and a small group of people milled about just outside the doors to the Arborwatch Tavern.

Arriving at the northern side of the plaza, Karl opened the heavy door to the Fighters Guild and stood in the doorway. Monika Northwind and Alex Pinewatch pulled up just short of the doorway. It looked like they were just leaving the guildhall.

Monika spoke up first. "Karl. You're back." Her expression carried a mix of genuine gladness with just a touch of anxiety.

As usual, Alex's expression seemed to reflect Monika's.

The big Orc mumbled wearily with a sigh. "Yeah, I'm back." His gaze shifted to glance about the main level of the guildhall. He noticed young Vinnus Odiil just sitting down at a table with some food. He looked like he couldn't decide whether to get back up or just stay there. He seemed to have gone with the latter, keeping his head down.

"Did everything go well?" Monika prompted.

"More or less." Karl responded, still looking about. He thought the place seemed unusually quiet. He was wondering where everybody else was.

Alex passed a comment. "You were gone a little longer than we expected."

Monika prompted Karl again. "So, did you ah…?"

Karl gazed back with a tentative expression. "Long story. One for later." He'd just noticed Dale Gavinus, the Guild Porter, making his way down the stairs toward them. "Way I hear it, there's more pressin' things goin' on right now."

Monika nodded grimly. "Yeah, there is."

The younger Guild Porter had paused just by the base of the staircase. Karl called over to him, perhaps a bit more gruffly than he intended. "Dale. Montrose up there?"

"Ah, yes. Yes, he is… Guildhead." Dale looked rather less composed than usual.

Karl was thinking that the porter usually seemed like he had a stick up his arse. Just then, he looked like someone was twisting that stick.

"You want us to come up?" Monika suggested.

Karl looked back. "Nah. You two can head off. We'll catch up later."

"You got it." Monika grimaced.

Karl stepped aside to let Northwind and Pinewatch pass. As they departed, he headed straight for the staircase. Dale returned a curt nod as Karl passed by, headed purposefully for the upper level of the guildhall with a scowl on his face.

Karl briefly noticed that there was no one about on the second level. Most of the bunk area looked suspiciously tidy. He wasn't so sure exactly what that meant, just yet.

Making his way up the staircase to the open office on the upper level, he saw Francois Montrose seated at the big desk and going over the mess of papers.

The Breton man looked up. "Ah, Karl… you're back." he looked weary. "We got your messages." He started to rise from behind the desk.

"Nah, siddown. I want ya ta tell me 'xactly what's goin' on." Karl dropped his pack and battleaxe down to the floor, then took a chair on the opposite side of the desk from where he usually sat.

Montrose looked slightly uncomfortable. "Are you… are you talking about Leyawiin and Bravil?"

"Course I am." Karl glared at him.

The Breton appeared flustered. "Well, it's ah… it's a bit of a complicated situation."

"Yeah well, just cut the horse-shit an' give it ta me straight."

Montrose nervously shuffled some papers, then went on to provide the general highlights of the recent events occurring in those southern counties.

Of course, Karl had already heard the first part of it from Guildhead Canne the day before. Montrose's account began with those three coordinated attacks at locations in County Leyawiin. From the start, his second provided slightly more detail than Karl was really interested in hearing. Still, he let him go on, expecting to learn something fresh and useful.

The Breton went on to list out each of the reported attacks and related incidents, encounters or sightings of bandits at various locations in both County Leyawiin and County Bravil over the past few weeks. He'd also noted that he'd informed Skingrad of the basic detail, since that county bordered on both Bravil and Elsweyr.

Karl prompted him to get to the part about the rebel Khajiit.

According to the information at hand, Montrose suggested that the talk of Renrijra Krin remained largely unsubstantiated. Both Fighters Guild reports and those available from the Legion had indicated that the bandit gangs had not made any clear declaration of acting in the interests of the Renrijra Krin. The reports did actually confirm that most of the raiders seemed to be Khajiit. However, the claims of Renrijra Krin involvement had mostly come from the survivors of the attacks.

If only to keep his acting second from continuing to read out lengthy sections from the reports, Karl pressed him to explain what was actually being done about it.

After a moment of hesitation, Montrose suggested that Leyawiin's guildhall still has enough people to cope, plus the Legion had deployed additional troops to that region. He told Karl that he'd sent Varro and Nonius to help out at Water's Edge and that Catius and Henrik had been sent to assist Bravil. He also again noted that the Imperial Legion had bolstered numbers in both those places, as well as several other locations.

He mentioned that he'd kept Northwind, Pinewatch and Odiil at Chorrol. He explained that they'd dealt with another pair of goblins at the Odiil Farms settlement only a few days back.

Karl accepted those decisions as good enough, but cringed inwardly at the mention of more goblin trouble. He steered the discussion back toward the immediate topic. "What about Quaspas? What's he been sayin'?"

Montrose blinked nervously, chewing at his lower lip. "Well… well, a message arrived just yesterday."

Karl returned an expression of annoyance. "What's it about?"

Montrose hesitated again. "It was from Leyawiin. From the guildhall."

"From Quaspas?"

"Well, no. Not Quaspas. It… it was from his second, Antus Plotius."

Karl struggled with rising impatience. His silent glare served to communicate that clearly enough.

The Breton's eyelids fluttered as he spoke. "Plotius' report indicates that Guildhead Quaspas was killed a few days ago."

Karl's eyes widened in disbelief. "What?"

Montrose looked down to the desk, avoiding the Orc's direct gaze. He turned to the appropriate document for reference, then proceeded to recite specific passages from it.

The report outlined a combined Fighters Guild and Legion assault upon one of the main bandit camps located to the south of Leyawiin, not far from the border with Elsweyr.

According to Plotius, the numbers at the camp turned out to be more than anticipated. Even so, the outlaws were successfully dispatched, with the exception of just a couple that got away.

On the other side of the balance sheet, both Guild Fighters and Legion troops sustained some serious injuries during the assault. Along with a small number of Imperial Legionnaires, Guildhead Quaspas suffered fatal wounds and died at the site of battle.

Karl was suddenly feeling slightly guilty over the animosity he'd been slowly developing toward Quaspas. He'd been anticipating the possibility of needing to face off against him at some point. He'd been planning to have words with Quaspas over his sneaky manoeuvring with regard to the matter of the Guild Master position and also pull him up on keeping a closer eye on bandit activities in his own region. None of those things really mattered any more. Still, he wasn't feeling too good about it.

Karl prompted Montrose for details of the current state of Leyawiin's guildhall.

Of course, Quaspas' second had stepped up to fill the Guildhead role, pending further discussion to come. From what Plotius' report said, they still had nine Guild Fighters at the Guildhall and the injured were expected to fully recover. Since that report was six days old, Montrose concluded that it was fair to assume that they were most likely already back in action.

The report also mentioned that the person in charge of the Legion forces down there had requested more Legion troops for the area. That didn't really say whether additional troops were actually on the way, or how many that might be deployed.

There was one other thing in Plotius' report. It mentioned that one of the dying Khajiit raiders at that camp had spouted some threats about the Renrijra Krin with his last breath. By the reckoning of Plotius, it wasn't clear whether it was a proper admission of association or just a parting curse.

Karl had some thoughts on that. "Yeah, I s'pose Plotius might be right. Still, I reckon there might be some new thing goin' on with the Khajiit."

Montrose frowned. "How do you mean?"

"Way I see it, the sneakier activities of the Renrijra Krin might stay real quiet. That ain't nothin' new. But when they're doin' stuff out in the open like that… Well, seems more likely, they'd make more of a big thing out of it. Like they useta."

"Like back in the old days?" Montrose was obviously thinking of those rebellious activities of decades before, when there was no Mane in Elsweyr to speak out against them.

"Yeah, somethin' like that." Karl rubbed the bridge of his nose in a weary fashion. "I reckon somethin' musta changed. Either there's someone new whippin' 'em up from the inside, or else… dunno. Maybe it's not even the Renrijra Krin, but somethin' else altogether."

Montrose stared with an awkwardly confused expression. "Like what?"

"Dunno. Just thinkin' out loud."

Montrose waited a long moment before responding. "I suppose that we don't really have such a good idea of exactly what's going in Elsweyr these days. It's not like it's part of the Empire any more, or even under any single ruler."

Karl looked back. His eyes shifted, indicating some thought. "No, it ain't. But those in charge ain't exactly at odds with the Empire either. Not right now. The Emperor's son got them trade deals with the main parts of the north an' the southern kingdoms ain't been causin' any special kinda trouble. That new Mane of Elsweyr seemed ta have settled things down. Least until this, anyways."

Montrose returned a silent nod.

Karl resumed. "Wouldn't hurt ta find out exactly what's goin' on with the Khajiit, but either way, most important thing is just puttin' an end to them raiders in the south."

The Breton man shrugged mildly. "I'd think that between the Fighters Guild and the Imperial Legion, that outcome shouldn't be too far off."

"Yeah well, hope so. Reckon we'll see." Karl sighed, looking to the Fighters Guild banner on the wall with a thoughtful gaze. It was usually behind him. The emblem of shield over crossed swords didn't seem quite as vibrant as the last time he remembered looking at it. The red background of the banner wasn't quite as red as it used to be. Of course, he realised that was just because of the sunlight that came in through the windows. The whole thing was more faded on that side. It seemed even more so, when viewed by candlelight and oil lamp.

Montrose looked to the Orc with a start and cleared his throat. "Oh, I forgot to ask you. What else happened with your trip to the west?"

Karl sighed deeply. He told him that it wasn't all that much different from what he'd already mentioned in that message he'd sent from the west a few weeks back.

After a pause, Karl went on to update him with further detail of what was still in motion in Sentinel. He did the same with what he expected to come out of his visit to Wayrest.

After commenting that both Skingrad and Anvil had no real problems, he mentioned that Kvatch needed more fighters in the guildhall, but figured that would best be left to Farrel and Merandil to sort out.

From what Karl had heard, some of the guildhalls of eastern Hammerfell were in much the same position as Kvatch. He planned to keep in touch with Razaal and encourage him to manage the situation from Rihad. At least for the short term anyway.

Once Karl seemed to have finished with what he wanted to say, Montrose spoke again. "I expect that you'll be wanting to take back the seat as soon as possible." Montrose gestured at the messy desk. His expectant expression seemed almost desperate. He was obviously hoping to hear a positive response.

Karl looked from the Breton to the mess of documents across the desk. "Yeah well, reckon you oughta sort that out a bit first. Then, I can look at takin' it back in the mornin'."

Montrose agreed readily and started on tidying right away.

Karl left him to it and headed off to deal with other pressing matters.

* * *

><p>Leaving the upper level of the guildhall, Karl passed down through the second level and headed directly for the bathroom on the main level. Once he'd relieved himself and cleaned up after the long day, he headed back out to look to getting some food in his belly.<p>

In passing, he'd noted that young Odiil had vanished from the main common area and that Dale was nowhere to be seen. He figured that the pair of them had most likely decided that it might be better to avoid to getting in his way. He didn't really care either way.

Since there was some stew simmering in the pot in the kitchen area and there was locally brewed ale in the barrel, he wasn't too interested in what the others were up to at that particular time.

He finished his meal without any enthusiasm, not really thinking about anything specific. After downing his ale, he cleaned up after himself, then trudged back upstairs to the second level.

As Karl made his way for his usual bunk, located beneath the main office, he'd noticed that Montrose was no longer upstairs. He had no idea where he'd gone, since he hadn't seen him depart. He wasn't feeling all that interested. He was just feeling tired.

As he hung his armour and readied himself for the bunk, he started thinking about those things that weighed on his mind. That ongoing situation in the south was foremost in his thoughts. He reasonably expected that to fully dominate his thoughts the next morning.

He remained slightly astounded by what had happened to Quaspas. Of course, that kind of thing could befall any Guild Fighter when least expected. Still, no one ever really expected that to happen with someone of that level of experience. He imagined that Quaspas never really expected it either.

Given just how physically and mentally fatigued Karl was feeling, before he'd had the chance to really give those matters any serious measure of thought, he'd drifted off to sleep.

~O~


	23. Chapter 23

The Sons of Baroth

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 23

Fredas the 9th of Sun's Height 4E49

Karl gro-Baroth released another heavy sigh as he continued to go over the reports and documents that detailed what had been going on in the southern counties of Cyrodiil over the past few weeks.

It was barely halfway through the morning, but it felt like it was much later. He'd been at it since not all that long after he'd risen, had something to eat and then settled down behind the big desk in the office of Chorrol's Guildhall.

He'd already passed most of the previous day doing pretty much the same thing. For most of Turdas, he'd kept himself fully occupied with going over those documents and reports and trying sort out things in his head. He'd figured that if he went through it enough, some unexpected fresh inspiration would come to him.

If nothing else, he'd managed a gain a complete understanding of all the available information. That wasn't just about the obvious facts. It was also about reading between the lines and making some reasonable leaps. Still, he hadn't come up with any surprising new revelations or innovative solutions to the trouble at hand. By his reckoning, what was already in motion was probably the best way to tackle it all.

Turdas hadn't passed without interruption or distraction. During that morning, Francois Montrose had come upstairs to again offer his own observations of the situation in counties Bravil and Leyawiin.

He didn't really have anything useful to add that he hadn't already mentioned on Middas evening. Anything relevant that Montrose considered was either already in the reports, or else Karl had already thought of it himself.

Still, Karl did give him due credit for sending those Guild Fighters from Chorrol's guildhall to help out at Bravil and Water's Edge.

However, despite the Breton's best intention, it was obvious that he had nothing fresh to suggest at that time. Since there was nothing else urgent at hand, Karl suggested that Montrose look to furthering the ongoing training of Vinnus Odiil. Of course, that task did actually need looking to, but it was more about giving his acting second something useful to do that would keep him busy and out of the way.

A little later that morning, Monika Northwind had come up the stairs to speak with Karl. She'd also offered her own insights on the situation in the south, mentioning that she'd been providing Montrose with advice during his absence.

In a friendly manner, Monika prompted Karl for some detail of how his trip to the west had passed. He responded easily enough, telling her about Sentinel and Wayrest and some concerns over the current state of a few guildhalls that were in need of more Guild Fighters.

The big Orc required some gentle coaxing from Monika to get him speaking of how he'd gone with looking into the matter of an Orc called Uzgark gro-Baroth.

Without immediately going into all the detail, Karl told her that he'd learned that Uzgark was indeed the last son of Baroth, born not all that long after his father had disappeared in the north. He explained that everything pretty much tallied up and that he was as sure as he could be that he really was his brother. He even looked a bit like one of his older brothers.

With a little further encouragement, Karl went on tell her something of Uzgark's life in Ripwold as a fairly successful farmer, as well as speaking of his wife and two children. She'd seemed to have picked up just a slight touch of admiration or envy in Karl's voice as he described his brother's circumstances, but she made no open comment.

Only because Monika had directly asked why Uzgark's name had come up in relation to Orcish agitators in Wayrest, Karl offered some explanation of how that came about.

He also explained something of the advice that he'd passed on to Uzgark and Sharma. He briefly laid out his ideas for efforts to help the communities of the old Orsinium region to gain some sort of voice with the rule of Wayrest. Of course, he also added that it was really up to them to make it all happen.

Monika suggested that she might send word back to her brother, Edwyn. She figured that since he was serving on the Guild's Board of Associates in Wayrest, he might be able to offer some introductions, provided that those merchants of the old Orsinium region were actually able to get themselves properly organised, as Karl had recommended.

Karl accepted that suggestion in the spirit it was offered, but also said it might be better to wait and see, before calling on any more favours like that.

With nothing else important to discuss or look at right then, Monika volunteered to leave Karl to his own concerns and head back downstairs to continue training with Alex.

Karl returned to the task of sifting through the many reports and associated documents on his desk and kept at it for most of the remainder of that day.

By the time of his second morning back in Chorrol and the start of a second day of staring at reports, it really felt like he was just going around in circles. Everything still told him that what was being done was pretty much what needed to be done. He was just thinking that he might have come up with something else, but that wasn't really happening.

Karl's mind drifted to somewhat unrelated concerns. He figured that he was going to need to head off to the Imperial City some time fairly soon. Normally, he'd just be sending off reports on behalf of the boss. Of course, things had become a little different. Before, he wasn't actually the Guild Master of the Fighters Guild.

Even though the Fighters Guild operated with fair bit of independence from the Imperial Council, most of the funding still flowed from Imperial coffers. He knew that well enough and it did still factor into his thinking.

By his reckoning, he ought to be putting in a personal appearance at the White-Gold Tower as soon as it was reasonably possible and making the proper effort to put his own stamp on the role he'd taken on.

Still, he didn't want to look like he was turning up empty handed. He wanted to at least provide the appearance of bringing something useful to the table.

On and off in some general fashion, he'd been thinking on that all morning, as well as most of the previous day. Those considerations had remained just beneath the surface as he tried to focus upon the more immediate concerns of southern Cyrodiil.

Karl wondered whether his headway with matters in the west would balance against those things that had gotten out of hand during his absence. A message of success from Sentinel would go some way to lightening his mood in that area of concern. He didn't really expect to hear anything from High Rock for a while, but he still intended to mention his efforts to provoke the guildhalls of that region to reconnect with those that still held closer ties with Chorrol, and by extension, the direct influence of Imperial rule.

He'd pondered over whether the cooperation between the Guild and the Legion in counties Leyawiin and Bravil would be viewed favourably or if it would be seen more as a failing on the part of the Fighters Guild.

He did recognise that some of what was going in the south really pointed more directly toward Quaspas' management of Leyawiin, but he wasn't convinced that everyone would see it that way.

He supposed that Quaspas would have come out of it looking real good if his actions had actually led to clear success. Even if it had all started under his watch.

However, since he'd gone and got himself killed, none of that really held any lasting substance or political currency by that point.

Either way, Karl wasn't about to go directing portions of blame or praise in any specific direction. All he really wanted was to see that everything was moving toward proper resolution.

With no great expectation of intuitive revelation or divine intervention, he chewed on those thoughts for a while longer. No matter what came about, he still figured that he ought to get himself over to the Imperial City during the next week.

* * *

><p>It couldn't have been all that far off midday as Karl's thoughts were suddenly disturbed by a creaking noise from near the wooden staircase separating his open office space from the common bunking area just below.<p>

He noticed the Guild Porter, Dale Gavinus, quietly ascending the stairs. If it weren't for the creaking floorboard, he wouldn't have heard him coming. He was always surprised by the younger Colovian's ability to move almost silently in his steel armour. Even though Karl knew that it wasn't the case, he sometimes figured that Dale would've fit right in with those Penitus Oculatus spies that he'd occasionally heard of.

Though it wasn't at all necessary, Dale assumed an official stance, standing to attention with his hands behind his back and softly clearing his throat to ensure that he held Karl's regard.

Karl glared back at him in expectant silence, slightly annoyed that his porter wouldn't just act like anyone else that he served with in the guildhall.

After a further lengthy pause, Dale spoke up. "Guild Master, a message has just arrived by courier from the Bravil Fighters Guild." He produced the sealed message from behind his back and held it out.

Karl frowned as he looked at the message in Dale's hand. "From Sestius?"

"I have not broken the seal or examined it."

Karl reached across the desk to take the message from the porter's hand. With a passing sense of dread, he cracked the seal and opened the message. It was from Sergius Sestius, the head of Bravil's guildhall. He firstly frowned as he read through the first part of the message. It looked like a fairly lengthy report. Much longer than he expected. As he read further down, he raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. After a couple of muted grunts, he grinned involuntarily and released a soft chuckle.

"Guild Master?" Dale was still standing there across far side of the desk, looking on with an expression of attentiveness.

"Huh?" Karl hadn't looked to him directly, still looking at the content of the message.

"Will that be all?" The porter prompted.

"Yeah… uh, no. Looks like good news." He looked to the younger man. "Can ya see if ya can find Montrose an' send him up here?"

"Of course." Dale nodded curtly, before turning about to descend the stairs.

Several moments passed by before Karl noticed Francois Montrose coming up to the office. During that delay, he'd had the opportunity to read through the message several times.

Montrose immediately recognised that Karl appeared outwardly less stressed than the last time they'd spoken. "Dale said you wanted to see me. He mentioned news from Bravil."

"Yeah, just got this from Bravil. From Sergius Sestius." He held up the message.

"And it's good news?" The Breton prompted.

"Yeah, reckon so." Karl glanced at the parchment once more, but didn't need to go reciting the whole thing word for word. Instead, he went on to provide his second with a brief summary of the highlights.

According to Sestius' report, two major bandit camps had just been taken down in County Bravil. That was the main thrust of the report, but there was a fair bit more to it.

Sestius had advised that it had been the result of cooperative efforts between the Fighters Guild, the Imperial Legion and Rimmen's Regulators. That last part raised Montrose surprised interest in a suitable fashion.

It turned out that the Regulators had been tracking the troublemakers causing problems for trade coming to and from Rimmen. They'd found the encampment located about halfway between Rimmen and Bravil at about the same time that Legion scouts had identified a similar group gathering in the foothills by the upper reaches of the Larsius River. Added to that, the Regulators had encountered some of Sestius' people in the forest near the border. Leading to some sharing of some information of mutual interest.

Each of those circumstances had lined up neatly with the arrival of the Eighth and Twelfth Legion, after having been deployed to Bravil.

Turning the tables on the raiders, the Fighters Guild, Legion and Regulators had worked together to mount simultaneous assaults upon both encampments. The short version was that despite some casualties, they'd been perfectly successful at both locations.

Of course, that didn't mean that it was all over, but by Karl's reckoning it sure looked like a major move in the right direction. Montrose agreed openly.

Sestius' reported also mentioned that the Eighth and Twelfth Legion were next headed for County Leyawiin after those successes in County Bravil. That didn't mean that everything was going to go down the same, but at least they'd have numbers on their side.

The new Guild Master and his second both agreed that it seemed like the matter was well in hand, with some indication of favourable outcomes in sight.

Karl told Montrose to feel free to go spread the word with the other people of the guildhall. After all, it never to hurt to go spreading good news when it was on offer.

Reflecting Karl's improved mood, Montrose headed off back downstairs with a slight spring in his step.

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><p>Karl leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He'd noted the subtle shift in the light coming in through the open window to his left. It told him that it had to have passed the midday mark by that time. A passing feeling in his belly was telling him the same thing. He reached for his water flask and took a drink from it.<p>

After receiving that report from Bravil, he was feeling a fair bit better about going to visit the Imperial City. The problems of the southern counties weren't over, but at least it looked like matters were in hand and some sort of end to it might be on the horizon.

With some of the weight of those greater concerns lifted just a bit, his mind idly drifted back toward that other thing that he'd looked into over the past weeks, that thing that had nothing to do with Fighters Guild business.

For decades, he'd been thinking that his father had just been a bit of an old bastard with no great sense of responsibility or honour. Sure, he might have been his father, but looking back, it seemed that he'd hardly seen him all that much during his first ten years. Then after that time, not at all.

After he'd lost his mother to sickness, it seemed that Fairbeard had been far more of a father to him than Baroth had ever really been.

Karl still figured that Baroth gro-Uzgark had never been the smartest of Orcs, but he'd never really been a proper rogue or scoundrel. At least not intentionally.

Up until just a couple of weeks ago, Karl had always just figured that Baroth hadn't really been much a father or husband. Again, he didn't really think of him as a villainous menace. Just a bit of an idiot with a gruff exterior. Maybe someone with some generally good intentions, but rather poor judgement.

That fresh information that Karl had only recently gained had gone some way to slightly altering some of his long held opinions of his father. He'd learned from his younger half-brother, that in the end, Baroth had died fighting for family and for the people of Orsinium. In spite of the many mistakes and missteps of his earlier days, that had to count for something.

Of course, that wasn't the only thing that Baroth had left behind. It was probably fair to acknowledge that the legacy of Baroth gro-Uzgark could be reasonably viewed as greater than the man himself.

None could argue against the respected contributions to the service of the Fighters Guild and the Empire made by his two eldest sons during their time.

Kurz gro-Baroth had served the Guild in Chorrol for all his adult life, standing alongside the Dontons, the famed Champion of Cyrodiil and Modryn Oreyn.

Lum gro-Baroth might have served the Guild slightly more sporadically during his younger years, but he rarely drifted far from his brother's side for too long.

Alongside Modryn Oreyn, both brothers had sacrificed themselves in service to the Empire, helping Titus Mede to bring unity to Cyrodiil during that terrible time of chaos. By extension, they played some notable part in stabilising what remained of the faltering Empire.

Karl's service to the Fighters Guild had become a reflection of that of his eldest brother. Just like Kurz, Karl had attained the same rank and status of second-in-charge at Chorrol's guildhall. He'd actually managed to pass the mark of having continuously served the Guild even longer than Kurz and then he'd finally gone that one step further than his brother, becoming the head of Chorrol's Fighters Guild and Guild Master of all the affiliated guildhalls of the Empire.

He paused on that thought for a short moment. So far, he wasn't so sure that being the Guild Master felt all that different from what he'd been doing for most of the past decade. At least, not yet anyway.

His thoughts turned to Uzgark and his family. He considered his younger brother's life in Ripwold as a farmer with his wife, Sharma, as well as their children, Yurma and Bator.

In some ways, Karl was feeling slightly envious of what Uzgark had. His own lot might have seemed more important in the general scheme of things, but he imagined that his younger brother's situation seemed like it certainly held it's own rewards. He figured it was far too late for him to expect anything like that kind of thing for himself. That ship had sailed long ago and left him behind. Still, he thought it was kind of nice to think that at least one of them got to have that kind of life.

He thought on that for a little longer. In the final tally of it all, he decided that each of the sons of Baroth had done well enough for themselves, each in their own way.

Listening to the distant murmur of noise coming from the plaza outside his windows, the big Orc released a wistful sigh. Since there was nothing too pressing on the books, Karl decided that he might finish up a bit early that day. He also decided that he might think about meeting up with Monika and Alex and going to have a meal in the Oak and Crosier Inn that evening. It had been a while since he'd done something like that.

~O~

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><p>Afterword: If you made it this far, feel free to pass comment (whether privately or publicly). Special thanks to those that provided assistance and advice with this story, including those other writers providing comment via review or PM. Also, friends that acted as sounding-boards during development and revisions. Special mention for The Imperial Library and UESP websites for providing such a wealth of useful information. And of course, the folks at Bethesda for creating the detailed universe of The Elders Scrolls.<p>

Additionally, I do recommend checking out some other stories by other authors on the 'community listing' on this site, "The Untold Tales of Tamriel".

... /community/The-Untold-Tales-of-Tamriel/113832/99/0/1/0/0/0/0/

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